


Leave It In My Dreams

by Newance



Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, I'm bad at writing summaries, Ignore this fic if you don’t care about tossball, Light Angst, NB Captain, OC captain - Freeform, Other, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, TOSSBALL, alcohol and drug use, i write max like a bitch but that's bc he is one, im a jock irl so I’m obsessed w this fake blood sport, trans felix, we're going clubbing gamers...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21603322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newance/pseuds/Newance
Summary: Felix Millstone loves his Captain, and his Captain loves him. Who cares if they're a mysterious Earthling with a diamond tooth? Everybody has their secrets.
Relationships: The Captain/Felix Millstone
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	1. Black Mud

Ada’s voice rang through the belly of the Unreliable. It was late, or technically early. Only two of the ship’s tenants were awake. 

“Captain, Phineas Welles wishes to speak with you. He says it’s not urgent, but his information may be valuable to you.” 

Felix looked across the table in the commons sadly. Watching as his company grunted, set down their drink, and got to their feet. 

“This shouldn’t take long,” they said, “but if it does, tell me if the Rangers win.” 

“Sure thing, Boss,” Felix agreed. 

Ada greeted them in the Bridge after they’d padded down the hallway and stairs, careful not to make too much of a racket. 

“Shall I patch Phineas through?” Ada asked their rumpled looking Captain. 

“Sure, Ada. Thanks for telling me.”

“You are welcome, Captain.”

The smaller screen suddenly lit up with static, then Phineas appeared. 

“Ah, Micah! Sorry to bother you so late,” he greeted. Micah scoffed. 

“You’re interrupting my Tossball match,” they joked. 

“Oh, sports. So important to you. That’s right.” Phineas mocked back. 

“So what’s the scoop?” Micah asked, eager to get back to the game. 

“I believe… well, I believe I’ve recovered some of your, hm… _personal_ belongings. Things from Earth. Things you brought with you.” He said, and Micah lurched out of their chair. 

“You’re not fucking with me?” They asked, and Phineas was surprised with how alert Micah had become at the mere mention. 

“Of course not! I don’t believe it’s all of it, but it’s something. I figure you’d might want some of your things for your ship,” he said. 

“Have you looked through it?” Micah was skeptical, almost wary. 

“Only a glance. That’s why I contacted you. I want you to come in and see for yourself. I understand you’re very busy saving the colony, so In the meantime, it’ll be safe and sound here. With me.” Phineas promised. 

“We’ll come by soon,” Micah nodded, and the two signed off. 

“How... exciting.” Ada said. “Alex often spoke highly of his material possessions. It will be interesting to see some of yours.” 

Micah smirked at the screen, and then sighed. 

“It’s probably all ruined. 70 years floating in space? I don’t know how well everything was preserved before we took off,” they said. “As shitty as my chances look, I’ve had okay luck so far.”

“Captain. I do not believe in luck, it is not real. And seeing as I can calculate most outcomes based on your rash, and sometimes volatile nature. But you do appear to obtain a greater chance at overcoming risk and threat with positives than negatives, as I’ve seen so far.” Ada said. Micah rolled their head around, making various noises of contemplation, then got up. 

“Thanks again, Ada.”

“Good night, Captain.” 

Micah jogged back up the steps, and was startled by Felix coming down them, holding two glasses. He had the remainder of their cider tucked into the crook of his elbow. 

“Fuck… I missed it?” Micah asked, and Felix shrugged. 

“It happens. Good news though,” he said, handing them the glass. He moved the cider to his hand. “Rangers won! Last minute foot goal. Figured we could toast with the whiskey you bought. You know... before Nyoka sniffs it out.” 

Micah accepted the glass, and then looked over his shoulder. It was pin-drop silence through the cabins, aside from the gentle humming of SAM as he charged in his room. Micah and Felix usually drank after bad games, but a toast to their team didn’t sound half baked. 

“I’ve got another bottle in my quarters,” they said, “maybe we should drink in there to keep the noise down. Ellie might let Nyoka skin us if she finds out we’re up this late again.”

“If she turns us into belts it’s only because you always take me along. Ellie wouldn’t get so mad at us being up late if she, I don’t know, ate some candy and calmed down.” Felix fell into step, crossing the short landing into Micah’s room. He’d only seen the interior in passing. Micah usually left their door open during the day while they were in the ship, but he didn’t like lingering in the stairwell. The view was barely revealing from the hallway. Micah wasn’t exactly private, but there were things even they refused to talk about. 

But he hadn’t expected this room, not after the months they’d been out of hibernation.

It didn’t really fit them, but... they’d also inherited the ship from a random guy. So, he could at least understand that much. Micah offered him the chair at their desk, and they leaned up against the wall nearby. He set the cider down near Micah, and they gave him a quick thumbs up. 

“To the Rangers,” Micah smiled, flashing a peek of their massive diamond Canine tooth. Felix was always trying to crack a good joke so he could get a glimpse at it. Settled into the right side of their mouth, the twinkle of the gemstone glinted every time they grinned. It was like something out of the aetherwaves. Felix had noticed early on that most of Micah’s teeth were sharp to a point, only the front four on their upper jaw were downright normal. Their bottom teeth all seemed normal, but he wasn’t going to go poking around in there to find out. 

Felix clanked glasses with Micah, and they downed the whiskey in one go. Micah passed behind Felix to their bed, reaching on top of it with ease. Their hand returned with another bottle of booze, and they asked if Felix wanted another drink. 

“Is it coming out of my bits?” He asked. 

“You know I don’t pay you,” Micah said. Felix coughed at the joke. Micah paid everyone, and they provided everything for the crew and the ship. Micah had even paid 3000 bits for a casserole for Parvati instead of flexing in the old chef’s face, just because Micah knew Parvati would’ve hated that. If Micah was offering...

“Then I’ll drink,” he agreed. Micah was generous as they refilled the two glasses. They knew Felix was dry, and drank cheap when he did have booze on board. Micah made quick work of theirs, refilling it before turning back to the half-empty cider. They pushed the whiskey bottle toward Felix, silently encouraging him to drink if he wanted to. 

“What did the Old Man want?” Felix asked, and Micah groaned, head falling back on the wall with a BANG. Felix almost flinched, but Micah seemed to have a head of solid stone. He’d seen them headbutt a Primal and it _died_. 

“He said he has some of my stuff, or thinks he does,” Micah said, trying to keep their eagerness from showing. 

“Like… from Earth?” 

“Yeah, you got it,” they kissed their teeth at him twice. His eyebrows shot up, and he nearly spilled his drink as he kicked the wheelie chair over to where Micah was standing. 

“That’s… that’s so amazing, Boss? When are we gonna go get it?” His eyes were sparkling, and Micah put their free hand out, flicking him in the forehead gently. He got the message and wheeled back the few feet to the desk. Personal space, personal space. 

“I figure we’ll start heading over soon. I’m excited about it, but if shit gets in the way, it gets in the way. We can take our time,” they said. “I’ll bring SAM along in case there’s anything too heavy.”

“Too heavy? For you? Funny.” 

“I was in cryo for a long damn time,” Micah explained, “I could barely swing a Tossball stick when I was first stumbling around. When I met you? Psshhhh, my form was terrible!”

“I’ve never really seen anything from Earth before. Nothing that ain’t corporate, at least,” Felix said. “Aside from you.”

Micah was quiet for a long time. They did that, occasionally. Stopped, slowed down. Just drinking, lost in a moment. 

“Who said I was gonna show you any of it?” They asked. Felix didn’t know if they were joking or not, but then again, Micah loved to lie. His suspicion was confirmed when they grinned, the little sparkle a dead giveaway. Their face was getting a touch redder than it already was, and he also felt the strength of the alcohol they were having. 

They finished their drinks, and Felix refused another when Micah offered. He got up to go to bed, not wanting to overdo it. They’d already been drinking during the game. Micah quickly took his seat, and before he could open their door, they cleared their throat. 

“I’ve told you I like your clothes before, right?” They asked. Felix looked down at his normal red and gray attire. 

“I don’t think so, Boss,” he said. 

“Well, I do. Get some sleep. That’s an order.” 

“Sure thing, Boss,” he parroted. He left quickly, and once he was back in his room, he ran his hand over the front of his vest. 

Micah wasn’t mean, never mean, not to him, but they certainly weren’t the most polite person in Halcyon. Short tempered, gruff, a little (a lot) rough and tumble, but that’s what Felix loved about traveling with them. No sympathy for those stupid corporations, no love for the Board. Micah had literally sprinted into his life and changed it all in seconds. The only way things would have been better is if they’d done a Tossball kick. 

Micah was already passed out in their bed, snoring loud enough to deafen a raptodon. They were too large for the bed, so their left leg was hanging off the side, while their right was bent up, braced against the corner. Mouth open, chesty snores ripped through the room. Alex Hawthorne has soundproofed his quarters long ago, so Micah was free to snore as loudly as they wanted to. 

Ada, however, was stuck listening to the harshness until she quietly shut off sound monitoring for that room. Micah had been drinking more, doing more recreational drugs with some of the crew. Ada wasn’t concerned, but would remind herself to remind Micah to watch the after effects. 

Micah and Felix both slept through breakfast, and nearly missed lunch. The two shuffled out, Micah in the wrinkled remains of their previous night’s clothes. There was an obvious drool stain on their shoulder, and their voice was hoarse when they greeted the rest of the crew. Ellie handed them a caffinoid tablet, and Felix was close behind them to receive one too. 

“I should ban you two from drinking while watching Tossball if you’re just going to drink afterwards regardless of who wins,” she said. 

“Why didn’t you watch with us if you were awake?” Micah asked. Ellie snorted through her nose and shot Felix a dirty look. 

“ _Somebody_ doesn’t know how to not shout when his favorite team wins.” Ellie said. 

“Hey, the Rangers had it rough this season!” Felix defended. 

“Anyway, I was getting up to go to the bathroom. I saw him getting your drinks,” she said. “Take it easy, Cap. You just woke up.” 

“Like, over three months ago!” Micah retorted. Ellie still just insisted they drink plenty of water in between each drink from now on. Micah scoffed, reminding Ellie they were technically, like, a hundred years her senior, but Ellie just offered them a senior discount. 

“And you,” Micah overheard Ellie addressing Felix in a more hushed tone after they moved to the table. Lunch was instant, normally Micah cooked, but they’d obviously been delayed. 

Ellie chewed Felix out much harder than she’d done to them, and he sat with his shoulders half slumped in his usual chair to their right while he ate. Micah handed him a candy bar on their way past him, and offered him a little wink before going down to the Bridge through the cargo bay. 

They made idle chit chat with ADA as they input the coordinates for the Lab. ADA gave them a 72 hour ETA from their orbit around Scylla. There’d been some solar storms lately, and she needed to take a different route around Hephaestus. 

Micah decided To leave ADA alone, knowing she didn’t like to be disturbed while flying. Instead, they climbed back up to the commons, and knocked on the wall outside Ellie’s door. 

“Come in,” Ellie said, and Micah immediately made themselves comfortable. Sometimes Ellie detested how informal the Captain could be, but that went against her whole credo, right? Maybe Ellie just didn’t like how friendly Micah was… they were the boss, not a friend...

“I’m the one that asked to drink after the game,” Micah said. Ellie took a look at their face and knew it wasn’t a lie. Micah didn’t like to lie to the crew. Not with anything serious, at least. They loved a good joke, though. 

“Okay, and?” 

“Don’t get mad at Felix for my stupid choices,” they said. “I encouraged it, and he accepted the offer. Just remember that.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind, Captain. You’ve got a soft spot for him,” she said, and Micah quirked an eyebrow. Ellie didn’t indulge with an unnecessary explanation. Instead, she handed Micah another caffinoid, and shooed them out. Micah returned to their quarters, lying down once again to take a post-meal nap. Despite the caffeine surging their system, they found it easy to drift off. 

Sleep was an indulgence Micah was trying to get more of the past few weeks. They’d started burning out on Monarch, pushing themselves just a bit harder each time they left the Unreliable. Adreno only did so much. Mostly for the body, repairing the mistakes made in exhaustive combat. Still, there was nothing like a good 9 hours a night to ease the aches and pains left over. 

They also wanted to respect their crew, and the health of everyone on board as much as possible. Long excursions were followed by long breaks. That usually meant everyone was happy, fed, and well rested. ADA has mentioned earlier that she was hoping they would take the opportunity to get some rest… and also to monitor their consumables more closely. 

Naps were rare, but ADA had to interrupt Micah’s slumber, calling them back to the bridge as Phineas waited, once again, on the other end of the wireless. 

“Sorry to wake you,” he said, Micah was obviously mused. Hair and clothes rumpled, they even stifled a yawn halfway through a casual dismissal. Phineas was almost humored by the look on their face. A brilliant scientific, medical mind under all that muscle, and they still managed to look childish. 

“What’s up?” They asked, and Phineas sighed. Their voice, clear, had broken that minor captivation. 

“Unfortunately, I need to take a closer look at your items. They appear to be radioactive, or… at least they’re _unstable_. They won’t be ready right away, but I can contact you when they are,” he explained, “I’m sure you can make yourself busy.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Micah nodded, yawning again. “Bye, Doc.” 

ADA cut the comm line before Phineas could protest the nickname. She gave Micah her neutral face, and Micah sat, hunched over, for another minute. 

“Should I change directions, Captain?” She asked. 

“Yeah, take us to Groundbreaker,” Micah’s hands operated the navigation terminal quickly, selecting the Groundbreaker and authorizing the coordinates. 

“Captain, what plans do you have for The Groundbreaker?” ADA asked, and Micah mulled it over. 

“Nothing, really. It’s just close, and has a good bar.” They said. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“I could list 5,672 worst case scenarios, Captain.” 

“Ha-ha.” They said dryly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a babe in dreamland I need to return to.”


	2. People Go Home

“I can see the top of your head from here,” Micah said to Felix. He craned his neck back, raising an eyebrow at their random comment. They were finally out of Gladys’ place, the cargo Micah ordered was confirmed and paid for. 

“What? You have nice hair!” They said, and he scoffed. 

“Geez, Boss, you flatter me,” he said, slicking it back again, needlessly, and Micah’s hand hit him between the shoulders, open palmed, twice. He always expected to be swept off his feet, but the taps were barely enough to disturb water. 

“Do you want to eat? Shop?” They asked, “we’ll meet back up with Parvati and SAM when our order is ready. If you have stuff you want to do, I can go get something to eat while you’re busy.” 

“I don’t really know. Your food’s the best in Halcyon, so I’d rather be eating that.” 

“Aw, thanks,” Micah giggled, “but you haven’t had _everyone’s_ cooking.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, “your food is the best, Boss.” 

“Does it really taste that good?” Micah seemed very serious with their question. They’d even stopped for a single step when he’d said that. 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s delicious. And you’re the one feeding me, why would I care about any other half baked casserole in town?” He asked, “like, I never have to think about it. You just make sure everyone has a bowl of something so good it could slap your balls into next Tuesday.” 

Micah snorted at that, hand coming out of their pants pocket to cover their mouth. Felix felt himself smiling, bobbing along beside them as they made their way through the Groundbreaker’s main hall. He decided to keep going, wanting to get Micah in a good mood. They’d seemed _off_ all morning. Actually, for the past couple of days. 

“I mean it, Boss! Is there anything better than getting out of the shower and someone handing you dinner before you even have a chance to feel the cold? That tobaccorn chowder you made the other night?” He asked, Micah nodded at him to show they knew, and Felix just groaned, letting his whole body fall forward a step as he gestured out in front of him with both arms. 

“You liked it that much?” They replied. 

“Uh, duh.” He rolled his eyes, “who else puts those little green things on top!” 

“S…” Micah trailed off. “The scallions?” 

“Yes! Those!” He pointed right at Micah, then kissed the tips of his fingers like he’d seen chefs do on old serials. “And don’t even get me started on the Cystychops and Rapt Ribs.” 

“Thank you, Felix,” Micah said, their smile had faltered, eyes shifting away momentarily. 

“Hey, is something up?” He asked, “sorry if I said something-“

“No, no, no, no!” Micah interrupted, “I’m just glad you like it! Max and Ellie have said some things before… so it’s nice to know it’s palatable.” 

Felix stopped dead in his tracks, making Micah freeze too. 

“Like what?” He asked, mouth curling into a frown. Micah stepped then off to the side so they could talk. 

“Too much of this, not enough of that… Nothing that would hurt my feelings. I make due with what we have, but I loved food on Earth. I make a lot of the food I grew up eating.” Micah explained. “But, yeah. Max told me the French onion soup I made last week wasn’t very good.” 

“That’s just because he hates French. He’s a jackass,” Felix said, and that earned a cracking laugh from Micah. People turned to look at them, their head tilted back, distracting to the masses.

“Maybe so, maybe so! Maybe he thought I was bullying him?” They snickered, bringing their volume down. The two of them pushed off the wall. 

They decided to go climb through the waste disposal section of Groundbreaker, climbing up a few ladders and ducking through vents. They ended up on the glowing tubes near SubLight. Micah sat down, swinging their feet with Felix beside them. They pulled a bag of cystybits out of their jacket, and Felix wondered how many snacks they had on them. 

“So, I have to ask, Boss,” Felix started, “what’s your plan?” 

“For today? Get some supplies, work out, shower, dinner, then get some sleep?” They said. 

“No, I mean… once we’re done with Phineas’ whole thing. Once you save the Hope and Halcyon from the clutches of the Board? What are you going to do once you’re a Hero?” 

Felix was enthusiastic about the mission. He always was. His penchant for the dramatic was magnetic to say the least. Micah always felt like he presented himself completely, and utterly, as Felix Millstone, and nobody else. Micah wished they could relate. He could’ve been a movie star, if he’d been born on earth at the right time. 

But time was fickle. 

“Oh, ha ha… yeah…” they mumbled, “see I uh. I came here for a really specific reason, but… time wasn’t on my side. So, there really isn’t one. At all… I don’t really know what I’m doing sometimes. Hero is the last thing I think I qualify as.” 

“You haven’t thought about it?” He asked. Micah shook their head, tilting it up to watch the stars through the giant glass dome. Felix kept his attention trained on their face, Micah lost in the moments between. 

“No plan,” they said, “not anymore. I don’t know what I want for my future, I don’t think about it. I lost that habit on Earth.”

“You _lost_ the habit of thinking about your future?” He repeated, and Micah nodded. He didn’t know how anybody could. He’d spent his whole life dreaming about the next day, hoping it wouldn't be what he anticipated. 

“My life on Earth,” they said, but didn’t divulge. It’s like they were expecting some other version of themselves to appear. Maybe they were contemplating. Felix just waited.

“That’s what lets me hit so hard,” they snapped out of their mental distance, “I replaced all my foresight with Big Muscle Juice.” 

The tonal shift was like a slingshot. There was nothing Micah could say! Not to Felix, anyhow. They were different. Much different. Everything about them was different. 

“You know,” Micah continued, “I’m still surprised you even believe I’m from Earth…” 

“I’m not an idiot. Look at you. If you were a Halcyon native, you’d be starter on the Spacer’s Chosen by n-“ 

“Don’t you ever insinuate I’d be playing for that rat of a team!” Micah gasped. “You know me! It’s Rangers of Bust, baby!” 

They both laughed loud enough to draw the eyes of mardets down below. Micah wondered if they’d get in trouble, but eventually all the eyes and faces walked on, not lingering, continuing their business. For some reason, Micah felt like that was worse, or maybe it was relieving. 

“Okay, so, if you were a Halcyon native, you would have been a Starter on the Rangers,” he bargained. 

“You know I was around when Tossball started on Earth?” Micah asked, “I was a huge fan back then.” 

“Damn, Boss. I know all about Earth Tossball!” He chirped, and Micah felt a chill go up their spine. They hadn’t expected that. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah! I was born after the Halcyon Reformation, so I got really into it all once I learned about it. I have a couple bootleg copies of Earth stuff, but it ain’t great quality.”

_Halcyon Reformation?_

“If you want, we can talk about it sometime,” Micah offered. “Not sure how much of a help I’ll be, but I might have a few media carts in my stuff that we can watch.” 

“That would be so fuckin’ cool,” he said, and Micah smiled at him. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been wondering… When’s your birthday?” 

Micah’s legs stilled, and Felix couldn’t help but feel like he’d crossed a line. One, two, three beats of silence. Lots of silence today. 

“March 29th,” they said, “I’m an Aries.” 

“Air what?” 

“You know, the zodiac signs? Ellie is a Leo.” They said, “they’re based on constellations, usually animal ones, and what day you’re born. Aries is a Ram.” 

“What’s April 19th?” 

“Also Aries,” Micah smiled, “is that your birthday?” 

Felix blushed and nodded. 

“Birds of a feather,” they tapped his arm with their knuckle, “or I guess Rams, in this case?”

“It’s coming up soon, then? For you?” He asked. 

“Oh, yeah, like, what? About a month?” Micah asked. “That’s closer than I thought. Yours too, though!” 

“Yeah, well. It’s just a day, right?” Felix laughed, but Micah could hear the deflection. 

“Hey, at least we can celebrate together! I’ll buy a bottle of good vodka, we can watch that one aetherwave about trying to tame canids!” They suggested, and Felix felt a weird mix of emotions. It was nice of them to offer, but…

“If we’re not busy, yeah,” he said. The job came first, birthdays second. But it sounded good. He _did_ love that candid vid. 

“You said on Earth…” Felix took a second start at his thought, “you said on Earth that you were an entertainer?” 

“Something like that,” Micah said, “why?”

“I wanted to know if you were in, the uh, Earth Aetherwaves.” 

“I wasn’t in movies, no, but I was on TV sometimes. I wasn’t an actor.” 

“Tee Vee.” Felix copied, and Micah hid a smile by wiping their nose. Felix loved all the Earth slang Micah had. _Movies, Tee Vee._ His favorite was when they called soda _Pop_. Pop! He chalked it up to describing the carbonation, but it was fantastic to hear it come out so naturally. 

“I studied cinema, and music in college, and I played lacrosse.” Micah said, “that was before The Board banned all past media, and only distributed Board Approved Bullshit.” 

“Oh, shit, you were there for that?” 

“Yeah, I made a big scene out of it,” they scoffed, “kind of fucking stupid in retrospect, but it felt good to rebel. You’re asking a lot of questions today.” 

Micah finally opened the cystybits. They hadn’t eaten yet, skipping breakfast to take a nap instead. They’d been up late scrounging up something for the morning meal. It was important to them that they all ate before going off ship. Everybody had something to do, somewhere or something to see on the Groundbreaker. Only Micah and Felix were left drifting on their own without a purpose. 

“Do you ever wonder how everybody else feels?” Micah asked, nodding to the walkways below. They chewed a couple of Cystybits, not speaking until their mouth was clear. “Down there. Like little ants, little bees… Everybody lives a life of their own. Everybody is their own person.” 

“Do you?” 

“Nonstop,” Micah revealed. “What happens when it all ends?” 

“Boss, you’re getting a little existential on me. You sure nothing’s wrong?” Felix wanted to know, really. What was on their mind? 

“I don’t know,” Micah heaved a huge sigh, shoulders slumping, “when I learned from Phineas I’d been out so long, it made me feel a little introspective. After a while it kinda went away, you know? Are my friends old now? Are they dead? Am I technically, like, a hundred? I mean, I’m 24, but am I?” 

“So all of this is just about being old? Weren’t you just joking with Ellie about this the other day?” 

“Yeah, sure. I guess.” Micah was stricken with how blunt Felix was. Somehow, he was the perfect person to get rid of the fog hanging heavy on their thoughts. 

“No offense, Boss, but it seems pretty stupid to get hung up about that. Look at Vic, he’s like ancient history. You could tell me he was a Hope colonist and I’d believe he flew the ship here himself.” Felix earned another laugh from Micah. Their shoulders rolled back up, regaining their usual posture. 

“You’re right, Felix,” they said, “thanks for dealing with whatever that was.” 

“Anytime, Boss.” He gave Micah a quick thumbs up. So far, in the months since they’d met, Micah had offered very little in terms of emotional discussions. Heated discussions? Yes. Anything that hinted at something deeper than a surface feeling? Not so much. Max had called them “one note” but Felix didn’t think that fit. 

“You’re pretty casual, Boss,” Felix pointed out, and Micah rubbed their chin, humming a long tone. 

“Yeah, you’re right again,” Micah said, “too much formal shit makes my skin crawl. I’ll wear a suit on my terms, but being dressed up like a Board Doll sucks ass.” 

Felix raised his eyebrows. There’d been a mistake somewhere in Micah’s interpretation. Felix didn’t care to try to correct anything because there was next to no chance he’d be right a third time in a row. Micah slid the half empty bag of cystybits toward him. He took them, seeing if Micah would produce anything more from their jacket. They didn’t disappoint. 

Micah peeled the wrapper off of a Purpleberry Bunch, popping it into their maw. The sour coating made their mouth water, stinging just a little in a good way. It was a great way to clear the air. 

“I have more,” they promised him. Micah always ate their food salty first, then sweets. Felix didn’t know why, but they didn’t like _sweet_ first. They also didn’t like Pop, only making the exception for a rare Lemon Slapp. They ate specifically, and carefully, but they also were much more conscious of their own body’s needs and desires. Felix didn’t really give a shit about nutrition, but Micah did. _He'd_ noticed the changes in himself once Micah was regulating the crew’s diet. His skin had started clearing up, he had more stamina. 

These trips to Groundbreaker were more for the benefit of the crew, if anything. Micah would buy boxes of fruits and vegetables, and sure as shit would the crew be stuck eating them. Fried with rice, blitzed into soups, roasted, baked, charred. It never felt like a chore to eat them. 

Felix never realized he actually _liked_ vegetables until now. 

Parvati and Micah would spend hours hunched over plants at Adelaide’s greenhouse, and little sprouts in boxes in the cargo bay. If anything, it felt like a privilege. Eating something grown with care, eating something cooked with care. No matter how the day went, there was never any tension at the Unreliable’s dinner table. 

“It’s really a miracle what eating a meal can do,” Felix said without thinking. Micah bit into the candy, glancing his way. They didn’t say anything, Felix didn’t even seem to realize he’d said it out loud. He was clearly lost in his own world. 

It just made Micah wonder more. They offered him a candy, and he tucked it into his cheek. The same sour punch knocked his scattered brain into gear. The two leaned back on their arms in unison, letting out the same sigh, and resigning themselves to relax out of reach of The Groundbreaker. 

Parvati eventually spotted them up high, and waved them down after a pile of candy wrappers accumulated between them. Their order was ready, and she’d gotten the replacement tread fitted for SAM. It wasn’t that long before SAM and Micah were hauling the boxes onto the Unreliable. 

Felix offered to help, but Micah flat out refused. He’d kept them good company while they waited, and he’d hauled enough boxes for a lifetime. It was a steady pace between Micah and SAM, it was only half an hour before the last of the crates were secured in the cargo bay. 

“Thank you, SAM,” Micah said, knocking their knuckles gently on the robot’s shell. He buzzed, and Micah hoped it was with happiness. 

“You’re welcome, CUSTOMER!” He cheered back. 

Micah bumped into Max on their way up the stairs, and they quickly looped their arm with his to steady him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” they mumbled, and Max shrugged it off, removing his arm and brushing the wrinkles from his elbow. Micah didn’t know their own strength.

Well, that was wrong. Max was positive that Micah was acutely aware of just how strong they were, they just didn’t expect to bump into him. He was grateful, at least, that he wasn’t sent sprawling into his ass. People didn’t tend to walk away from a Captain Micah shoulder check. 

“You’re sweaty,” he said, and Micah touched their forehead. 

“Oh, guess so…” they said, “I was hauling boxes.” 

“Why? Just have SAM do it. Or Mr. Millstone.” He joked, “he’s got, what, years of experience in that?” 

Micah frowned, Max realizing instantly that his joke didn’t land. 

“Not his job anymore,” they told him, “SAM shouldn’t be forced to do it alone, either.”

“Forced? He’s a robot, Captain,” Max said, but Micah shook their head no. 

“I don’t care,” they said, not scolding, but almost. “He’s part of the crew, like all of us. I wouldn’t make you push them, would I?” 

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t, Captain.” 

“It’s been months, Max. You can call me Micah.” They said, and he grimaced, physically recoiling a bit. 

“Okay, just say I’m disgusting, bitch.” 

“What the fuck, Captain! I didn’t say anything like that!” 

“You said I was stinky.” Micah snorted and crossed their arms.

“I said you were _sweaty_!” 

“What’s the difference?” Micah continued to pester. It became obvious they were performing an elaborate skit with him as their victim. It was kind of hilarious.

“Law, you’re over dramatic.” He groaned, “you took me off guard, Micah!”

“See, was that so hard, Preacher Man?”

“I will kill you if you keep calling me that,” Max said, and Micah blew a raspberry as they burst out laughing. 

“I’d like to see you try! You’ve got a pretty big Tossball stick, you sure you’re not compensating for something?” They teased. Max’s face went red hot, and he covered his eyes with his hand. 

“I could say the same about the size of your biceps,” he shot back. 

“OHHHHH!” Micah exclaimed, “you got me good, Vic. I’ll give it to ya! Oh, by the by, I’ve got some news that might interest you.” 

“What is it? The rigging for the Tossball Championships?” He asked, but Micah shook their head. 

“I was an avid reader in my Earth times. I might be getting a couple trunks of books, figured you might want to peruse the Ol’ Unreliable Public Library once it’s open! I’ll even make you a little card.” Micah cooed at him, and Max _was_ incredibly interested. Old Earth literature tended to be extremely entertaining. All of it banned. 

“You’re too kind, Captain,” he said, “I can’t wait to see some of it.” 

“Anytime, Max,” they punched his shoulder affectionately, but he knew it was going to bruise. He could have sworn Micah’s knuckles were also diamond, not just that tooth. They left him on the stairs, conversation over as quickly as it began. 

“What should we have for dinner?” Micah asked Felix and Parvati. They’d come in just as they were wrapping up a conversation about the newest Aetherwaves. 

“Well, what’ve we got, Captain?” Parvati asked. 

“Everything, now!” Micah grinned, “if you don’t mind, I’d love to make my favorite food for everybody sometime in the next few days.”

“Oh, sweet!” Felix said, “I bet your favorite food is the best, Boss.”

“It is!” Micah was giddy, bouncing on their feet, “I haven’t had it in so long! I’m so excited!”

“What about breakfast food for tonight? Hot cakes, eggs, cystystrips?” Parvati suggested, “it’s easy enough, and your hot cakes are mighty tasty.” 

“Agreed,” Felix nodded, “you didn’t have breakfast today, anyway.” 

“It is nice and easy, huh… I can even shower beforehand and not worry about time,” Micah was thinking out loud. “Felix, do you want to help me?”

“Oh! Uh, sure? You want me to?” He asked, and Micah nodded. 

“You’ve got good shoulders,” they said, “they’re useful in the kitchen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Vicar Max said I was sweaty.” 

They ducked out, as gracefully as they could, to shower. The tiny bathroom, all in one, was just barely large enough for them. They didn’t want to spend too much time, sharing one toilet with five other people often got chaotic. 

Still, the hot water was nice. Scrubbing the grit from their knuckles, washing behind their ears, it was all just a little therapeutic. Lather, rinse, repeat. A routine they could get behind. 

Micah toweled themselves off, and finished with a thin coat of coconut oil. Micah hadn’t been able to find it anywhere yet in Halcyon, so they were making the tiny bottle they’d tucked in their suit before cryostasis last as long as possible. 

But they still had to moisturize. 

Felix was waiting in the galley, tapping his fingers on his knee. Micah emerged from the bathroom, glistening under the sun ship lights. Micah liked to shower late, so it was rare to see them afterwards. Nobody ever looked like Micah after a shower, slick and shiny. 

“So, pancakes,” they sighed to him, veering off into the cupboards, rummaging for large tins of dry ingredients. Flour, sweetener, salt. They measured out all the dry ingredients into a large bowl, cracking eggs and pouring milk into it before passing it off to Felix. 

“Whisk it, but not too much,” they advised, “we’ve made em before. You know what you’re doing.” 

“Aye aye, Boss,” he saluted. Micah went back to the counters, chopping cured cystybacon into strips for frying. 

“Should I put fruit in the pancakes?” They asked, and Felix stopped whisking. 

“You’ve done the nanners before,” he said. 

“I got some special stuff from Earth. Blueberries,” they said, “if they sell them locally in Halcyon, I haven’t found a supplier. I’m hoping Adelaide can coax a couple bushes out soon.” 

Fake blueberry scent and flavor was everywhere in Halcyon, but Felix had always found it soap-like. Micah excused themselves for a moment, sliding down the ladders empty handed, and then popping back up at the end of the hallway holding a box of tiny blue spheres. 

“Here, try some,” they held a few out to him, and he accepted, reluctantly. Micah dropped a small stream into their own mouth, and then let out a snort of approval, nodding their head in agreement as they chewed. Felix decided to try one, and it burst in his mouth like a little bubble. 

It was sweet, and mild, and a little bit sour at the end. Micah watched his face as he chewed the single berry, swallowed, and then put another in his mouth. He was obviously trying to decide if he liked them or not. 

Felix ate the third berry, then held his hand out to Micah again. They gave him a few more, and he proceeded to eat them all, one at a time, before telling Micah that he approved. 

“They’re better once you cook them,” they said, taking the large bowl of batter from the table in front of him. 

“Thank you for mixing this,” Micah said, “would you help me some more?” 

“Of course, Boss. What do you need?” He sat up a little more in his seat. 

“Wanna crack some eggs?” They asked, “just wash your hands first.” 

Micah knew Felix enjoyed the small bits of kitchen work. Mixing, cracking, chopping. Anything mildly dangerous or destructive was right up his alley. He’d gotten pretty good at keeping the shells out, too. Micah liked having someone else in the kitchen with them. Especially when they were docked. Even more so at The Groundbreaker. It made time pass easier as they cut the bacon. 

Nyoka and Ellie were off ship, planned to be all night, and Micah knew. It was fine by them, they were allowed to enjoy themselves. Parvati didn’t like to leave the ship much, still buried deep to her elbows in repairs. Micah was social, though, and enjoyed the community. Whether or not their community enjoyed them was still up for debate. 

“You’re quiet again, Boss,” Felix said, cracking another egg into the bowl Micah had handed him. 

“Wh-huh? Oh, sorry. I’m thinkin’.” They said. 

“‘Bout what?” He asked. “Also how many eggs?” 

“A dozen,” they said, “and I’m just thinking my thoughts.” 

“Thoughts about what?” 

“If everybody thinks I’m annoying or not,” they shrugged. “You know. Normal stuff.” 

“If anyone thinks you’re annoying, they’re an idiot,” Felix said, “I’ve said it before, but you really are like something out of a serial, Boss.” 

“Thanks for the compliment,” Micah tittered, “I think you are too.” 

“Really?” He asked, and Micah could practically see the sparkles around his face. 

“Yeah, duh.” They rolled their eyes at him, “you should be on TV. I’d watch anything you’re in.” 

“Shucks, Boss. Maybe we should have a go at it once everything’s over,” he said, but it was clearly in jest. He passed off the eggs to Micah, and watched as they plucked the few stray shell pieces from the whites. 

“I need a cream guy, Y’know?” They asked Felix as they poured a light stream of milk into the eggs. 

“A cream guy? Like wooly cow?” He asked. 

“Yeah, exactly. You know anybody good?” 

“Actually, I do,” Felix said. “He’s a Back Bays guy, uses their shit to make fertilizer for MacRedd.” 

“For his little mushroom business, right?” Micah asked. 

“That’s right, Boss. I can go tomorrow and get some,” he said. 

“Cream, or mushrooms?” Micah asked, bemused. 

“Whatever you want,” he charmed. Micah let out a bubbly laugh, and elbowed him gently with the arm whisking the eggs. 

“Let’s get the cream for now, we can drop Shrooms later. I can go with you if you want,” they said, but Felix shot them a cautious look. 

“I thought you didn’t like the Back Bays?” He said, lip pulled up almost in a scowl. 

“What? When did I ever say that?” They asked. 

“I mean, nobody likes the Back Bays, I’m fine going there because, like, home sweet home.” He explained. Micah furrowed their brows, frowning down at him. 

“Felix, I don’t care about that. The Back Bays are fine, plus, they’re where you’re from. I’d rather be there than, like, Roseway.” They said, and Felix turned his head away while his ears burned. 

“Cool, cool, let's go then.” He said. 

“Sounds like a plan! Now I’m gonna finish dinner, you can relax.” Micah insisted, sending him back to the table. 

The three other crew members all stared down at the purple and blue spotted pancakes. Micah was already eating, not holding back at all. Max was notoriously against purple food, and even Felix was unsure, and he’d had the blueberries. 

Ultimately, Felix was the first to try them, then Parvati, and finally Max. Micah stared directly at the vicar as he took his first bite. They wanted his approval on the food, even if they wouldn’t admit it. Max avoided making eye contact, but he was well aware that Micah was boring holes into his head from across the table. 

The food was good. Really good. The questionable color almost convinced him otherwise. Micah didn’t need any verbal confirmation, they resumed eating as soon as Max took to cutting a second piece off his stack. 

A resounding success! Micah was pleased. Max even asked for seconds, a very rare occurrence. 

“Captain, if you don’t mind, may I help you clean up?” Max asked after dinner. Parvati had gone to take a shower, and Felix had eaten too much, heading to his room for a nap. 

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Micah said, and the two got up to do the dishes. 

“That was a very good meal, Micah,” he said, accepting the drying towel from them. They thanked him again as they scrubbed out the batter bowl. 

“I’m glad you liked it. Truly,” they said to their hands, they passed him the bowl, and he began his job.

“You know your way around the kitchen, that’s for sure,” he chuckled, “but I wanted to ask you about those books?” 

“Oh! Absolutely, man! Fire away!” 

“Well, I’m mostly just curious about your… _taste_ in literature. I know you went to college-“ Micah interrupted him by clearing their throat. 

“Yeah, I have academia if that’s what you’re after. I read a lot of fiction, though. Horror novels, mystery, you name it. I had a lot of time to read,” they said, “what’s mine is yours.” 

“I appreciate it, Captain. The idea of getting to explore more Earth texts is invigorating, wouldn’t you agree?” He accepted another bowl.

“Absolutely.” Micah nodded, “some of it is in other languages, but we can always go through them together in the mornings.” 

“Other languages?” He asked. 

“German, Spanish, Latin. You know,” they shrugged, “I grew up traveling. I spent all my really developmental years in a bunch of different countries.” 

“I keep forgetting that,” Max hummed. “Where did you say you were born?” 

“Cuba,” Micah said. “I was born in Cuba.” 

“Cuba, like the island?” He asked, and Micah nodded. “How fascinating. Your accent doesn’t seem to…” 

Micah had leveled him with a sarcastic sneer. 

“We both know my voice depends on my mood,” they said, every word spit out with a unique drawl, and he sighed. It _was_ true. Micah had mimicry down perfectly, they could change their voice on whatever whim they wanted. He’d heard them impersonate crew members, create entirely new identities when introducing themselves to strangers. He wondered exactly what Micah sounded like at default. 

“I don’t suppose we’re going to have an all-revealing chat where you drop all your defenses, Will we?” He taunted. Micah gave him a chesty laugh, but that was it. 

“Some day, maybe? You’ve got a better chance if I’m drunk or my leg is broken,” they said. 

“That second one sounds like something from experience,” he said. 

“You’re slick, Vic, but not that good.” Micah said. He wasn’t getting an answer beyond that. 

They washed and dried the plates, put away the remaining ingredients, and Micah called in SAM to wipe down the kitchen for them. 

“Thanks,” they said, and Max did find it endearing how gently they treated the big metal bot.

Micah announced they were going to bed, loudly, and Max wished them goodnight. Various mumblings came from Felix and Parvati’s rooms.

Micah flopped onto their bed, positioning their legs in their usual crowded manner. They said goodnight to ADA, and then they were out. ADA closed their door for them, sparing the rest of the ship from the thunderous snoring. Tomorrow was their third day on the Groundbreaker, and ADA couldn’t help but notice Micah was getting _antsy_.


	3. Doing Nothing

The communication was quick, and sudden. Ada called Micah down from their quarters in the dead of their sleep, watching through the ocular processors as they shambled, a mass of blanket and limbs, down the stairs to their seat. 

Phineas had been privy to the first glimpse at Micah’s startlingly blue eyes Halcyon had ever seen. He’d thought of that moment often in the months following their unthawing. How frozen _he’d_ felt when they had awoken, how those irises had settled and buried into him from behind that pod glass. Every time they spoke in person, he felt like that first look had been different. _Raw_. Micah sat before him on call, wrapped in blankets like a holy shroud. Once again, those eyes opened, through grainy comm footage, half asleep. He’d have to remember not to contact them so late, but it was so convenient. 

Even when glassy, that stare was intense. They practically glowed. Micah’s red hair, and amber skin were lit ablaze by ADA’s ambient light. 

“I’ll make this quick,” he promised, almost unnerved by the transmission’s aesthetics. Micah nodded at him. “Come to my lab when you have time, I have things for you. Not the most, but they’re yours nonetheless.” 

“Uh-huh,” Micah nodded, eyes closed again. Phineas could practically see the little zzz’s floating over their head. Micah’s hand was moving, though, settled onto the navigation hub. 

“See you… tomorrow,” Micah said, confirming the coordinate input, and ADA cut the transmission. 

“Captain?” ADA asked, Micah hummed at them softly. “Might I suggest… going back to bed?” 

“Ah-huh,” Micah continued, having slowly slumped over. 

“Not _here_.” ADA continued. 

“Oh, okay,” Micah snored, body practically levitating out of the chair. A ghost, they shuffled back up, socked feet squeaking ever so slightly as they climbed back to their bed.

Ada waited for them to be settled and snoring before she took off from the Groundbreaker. Parvati had gotten some good work done during their brief stint. The Unreliable felt great. 

The trip was quiet, the ship was quiet, and ADA enjoyed the peaceful flight. The constant conversations, bickering, disruptions, they were so different than her time with Alex. She liked when they all slept. 

Micah rolled out of their bunk in the wee morning hours, hitting the floor, then stretching themselves out until they were limber. They worked out, same as every day, a long routine of too-many reps. Sweaty, and groggy, they left their quiet room to creep to the shower. Micah wasn’t a germaphobe, but plenty of the crew had asked why they showered up to three times a day. They could only explain that they were used to it. 

They stood under the hot water, lost in their own thoughts, performing their routine absently. Micah was always relieved when they could perform those little tasks on autopilot. They’d been so uprooted, it was comfortable and felt good. It was a refresh to their battery. 

By the time they were dried and dressed, Max was seated at the galley table with a book. He looked up when the bathroom door opened, and Micah wasn’t even surprised to see him. This was nearly every morning for them. Again, routine. 

“Coffee?” Micah asked, voice hushed and entirely new. Deeper than yesterday, no discernible accent. Max wondered how many voices existed within Micah, and how many he would hear. He agreed to coffee, and Micah went to the corner of the kitchen where the little coffee maker sat. Micah and Parvati had spent three days tinkering with it, getting it up and running. 

“The usual?” Micah asked. 

“Please, and thank you,” Max said, Micah knocked a small spoon full of sweetener into a mug. They prepared his coffee, and came over to the table holding a bottle of unlabeled cream. 

“Felix hooked me up,” Micah explained when they saw his eyebrows quirking at it. They took a long drink. 

“That’s… you’re drinking it?” He asked, and Micah didn’t pause as they tipped the bottle up. Micah was Left with a white mustache. Max couldn't imagine why they would drink it. Milk he understood, but this?

“Tasty,” Micah explained, “what are you reading now?” 

“Nothing new,” he said, flashing a familiar cover. “Where are we headed?” 

“We’ll be docking with Phineas soon, I’m picking things up.” They said. 

“Do you know what?” 

“Absolutely not,” Micah smiled, “that’s what’s fun, though. They’re my things, but I have no idea what it’ll be. A little present from my past life!” 

There was a confident optimism to Micah that Max found confusing, but magnetic. They were very even with how they presented themselves, however, they also had a giant milk mustache. 

“Did you bring much?” 

“I’m shocked you even believe me now,” Micah said, and Max sighed. 

“Look, I know we’ve had our doubts,” he frowned when Micah rolled their eyes, “but you've… proved yourself truthful enough. Plus, you’re offering me books.” 

“And a custom library card!” 

“ _And_ a custom library card,” he agreed. Not that it meant much to him. 

“Can you be honest with me?” Micah asked him suddenly, and Max sat back. 

“Asking me? For confession?” 

“No,” they said, “I need you to tell me if you think I’m not as buff as I was when we met?” 

“What?” 

“Am-I-Less-Buff?” 

“I… think you’re more buff?” He asked, squinting as he leaned back further. 

“No, be honest!” They pleaded. 

“Captain, I’m sorry, I don’t spend all my time staring at your rippling muscles. I’m not the person to ask, but I think you’re fine,” he promised, somewhat sarcastically, “thank you, again, for the coffee.” 

Max hadn’t noticed the expert deflection, nor had he followed up with it. The two had a wordy, over complex conversation as Micah prepared breakfast for the crew. He’d noticed the kitchen already looked in use when he’d woken up, and when Micah opened the oven and removed a covered dish, his suspicions were confirmed. 

“So… What is it today?” He asked, watching Micah methodically press tobaccorn paste into tortillas. 

“ _Ropa vieja_ ,” they said, “it’s like ah… ah… beef stew. I like it more than Fu Fu, and I think you will too.” 

“ _Fu fu?_ ” Max repeated. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s plantains and mayo and bacon,” they said over their shoulder, face twisting into mock disgust. Max only vaguely knew what plantains were, considering them similar to the Nanners that Micah kept on board but refused to eat. 

“You don’t like Nanners, do you?” 

“Not really. Bananas and Plantains were such a big part of my diet growing up, but after a while I just… ate myself sick on them.” They chuckled, “bananas here taste like shit, anyway.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, absolutely! See, on earth we had like this crazy banana plague in the 1900’s. It demolished the most common type, _but_ banana candy was all flavored after that old species. So there was this disconnect between the fruit, and the candy. Plantains are totally different. Way sweeter. Usually fried, almost always cooked,” Micah said, “but you can only eat so many before they lose their… _appeal_.” 

Micah relished in the defeated groan Max released when the pun hit him. Their jokes had as much impact as a limp piece of toilet paper, but they still insisted on telling all of them. At least they had a sense of humor. At least they made the effort. Edgewater had been as bleak as prison, for all different reasons. 

At least Micah was a breath of fresh air. Still, his eyes hovered at the place between their shoulders. Earth? The Hope? It was all… _mythos_. Real Legends, living legends, but still stories told to children when they couldn’t sleep at night. To scare them into rigid conformity. If you leave your post, you’ll be lost like the Hope. 

But somebody _found_ Micah… 

“Do you think I could… come with you, this time? To meet Doctor Welles?” He asked. 

“No can do, Max,” they sighed, “you're one of them governmence Scienticians.” 

The gummy accent they put on made them sound ridiculous, but they dropped it as quickly as they’d adopted it. 

“So why Millstone?” 

“I trust him. It’s Felix, Max! He talks about breaking the law in his sleep,” Micah said, “plus, I don’t do super great on my lonesome.” 

“Social butterfly?” He asked. 

“Mhm, I’m fine on my own to a point,” they said, “like I won’t freak out, but I get anxious.” 

“Anxious? _You_? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Captain,” Max scoffed, and they shrugged. 

“I actually have acute paranoia,” Micah laughed, “it’s funny. Holdovers from my dad. It’s fine, though. Like, it doesn’t get to me much, usually cause I had, uh, like medication? For it? I don’t have it here, obviously, so I try to keep someone nearby when I’m off-ship. Calms the nerves to know I’m not alone. I can’t just… _disappear_.” 

Micah didn’t _do_ confession. Not by Max’s traditional ways, they mostly just spit out tiny tidbits and then never addressed it again. 

Paranoia.

Max never would have considered it plausible. 

But they weren’t lying to him, they weren’t being an asshole. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, and he saw Micah falter, glancing back over their shoulder with a wild eye. They blinked, and it was gone, but Max would remember that look. 

“No problem,” they said, and one by one, the other’s doors slid open. Sleepy faces shuffled out at the smell of the food, fresh tortillas being loaded onto plates, the stew in bowls beside it. The crew lined up for their breakfast, accepting dishes of salsa and cut fruit. 

Micah gave Nyoka an extra scoop of stew, and a few extra tortillas. 

“No salsa, you’ll puke,” Micah warned. “There’s plenty. Help yourself.” 

“Thanks, Cap,” she mumbled. They’d had a few drinks with Nyoka the night prior, but Nyoka had had many more after that. Micah gave her a warm smile as she left, and Felix trotted up, bringing up the rear of the line. 

“Morning,” Micah greeted, “how hungry?” 

“Very,” Felix said. Micah served him extra, as well, then themselves. They settled down next to Felix, and informed everyone where they were headed that morning. 

“Can I come?” Felix asked, and Micah nodded at him. Nobody else asked, too busy indulging in the spicy breakfast they’d been given. Micah could handle their spice, but they were careful of heat levels for everybody else. 

“It’ll be short,” they promised, “then it’s down to Terra-2.”

Micah finished first, they always ate the fastest. They fixed some of the leftovers into a metal container, and they excused themselves from the kitchen after placing their dishes in the sink. 

“Come to the bridge when you’re ready. Take your time,” they said in passing to Felix, patting his shoulder. 

ADA and Micah made small talk as they sat in the Captain’s chair, but they looked tired. They weren’t very talkative, instead, they just let themselves relax and digest while sucking on a piece of candy. 

“We’re approaching orbit, should I take us down, Captain?” 

“Not yet, ADA,” Micah said, “I’m waiting.” 

“For Felix, correct?” She asked, rolling her eyes at them. 

“Yes, that’s right.” Micah said. 

“Do you think you’ll need his assistance?” She asked. 

“Not sure, can’t hurt to have him along,” they shrugged, “you’re always asking me to bring somebody with me.” 

Ada was quiet for a long time. 

“Simply, Captain, I do not wish to… lose you to your own negligence.” ADA said, and Micah straightened up a little. 

“Thank you, that means a lot,” they smiled. 

Felix appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat to announce his arrival. Micah gave the all clear to dock, and waved Felix in. He braced himself with one hand against Micah’s shoulder as the smooth descent began. 

“We’re picking up your stuff, right?” He asked, Micah confirmed. 

“Not all of it,” they said before he could ask, “not a lot, apparently. I just got the call last night.” 

“What is it?” 

“Who knows!” Micah said. 

“Uh, Boss, shouldn’t _you_ know?” He asked. 

“See, but I don’t know what’s ready to be taken, yet. Remember, I haven’t seen what he recovered,” they said.

“You got me there,” he tapped the toe of his boot on the ground a few times. 

Once docking procedures had finished, the two got up to go. Micah had the metal container from earlier in one hand, tucked close to their hip as the two embarked into the hollow lab. Phineas’ voice echoed throughout, welcoming them in. In their first meeting, he’d avoided Felix entirely, but he’d gotten accustomed to his presence now. 

Phineas was behind glass. 

“I brought you some food,” Micah said into the speaker, placing the dish onto the table to the side. 

“Thank you, Micah. What is it this time?”

“Not beans,” Micah said, “ropa vieja.” 

“It’s good,” Felix endorsed, and Phineas stole a look his way. 

“Yes, yes, thank you. I’ll be sure to eat it-or… Bubbles will,” he gave Micah a weak smile, but they didn’t seem offended, or even remotely bothered by the sentiment. 

“She’ll like it if you don’t,” they said. They just didn’t want it to go to waste. They loved the big pig, currently snuffling towards them to say hello. 

“Do you have any for me?” Micah asked, in reference to Bubbles’ dropped tumors. 

“I do, I do, I put them over by your bags. Do you have any questions, or are you ready to collect your things? I have them gathered by the door. Cleaner, you see. A suitcase and two duffle bags, and the chops. The rest I’m still working through.” He said, Micah nodded, turning their shoulders to see where their things were. They leaned closer to the speaker box, speaking barely above a whisper. 

“Feel… uh, feel free to open stuff if you need to,” Micah said, “just remember… like, I’m… an adult with a life...” 

Phineas picked up the connotations immediately, and coughed once. The rosy bloom on Micah’s face was enough to insinuate that they weren’t a purist. 

“I’m not here to pass judgement, you know that,” he said, “be safe out there. Come by if you need anything. If you make any more of that peppered bacon, I’d love some.” 

“Say no more. Thanks for this,” they said with a smile, “this was part of what was packed in with my pod, right?” 

“Yes. That’s all I’ve got. There’s more to it than just this batch, I’m still pulling it out of quarantine. The rest of your belongings are still on the Hope, but your initial acclimation items are all intact. I gutted them when I installed the beacon. More than standard regulation, I might add?”

“If you didn’t notice, my body isn’t exactly ‘standard regulation’, Doc,” Micah shrugged.

“Initial whaties?” Felix asked, and Micah stood back up straight. 

“Our pods had like, four big trunk spaces in the back. We were allowed to pack them with things we deemed essential. Clothes, personal things, you know? Stuff we wanted right away while everything else was sorted. It was to help us get our feet under us,” Micah explained, “you had to buy additional storage on the Hope, but everybody got their IAI’s.” 

“Ohhhh,” Felix said, “what did you bring in yours?” 

“Oil,” Phineas scowled. 

“Oil?” Felix repeated. 

“Oh, shit!” Micah sang, turning all the way around and taking a leaping step toward their things. “Yo! Doc, thanks for all of this. Super sexy of you, but we’ll get out of your hair. See ya! Call me!” 

They scooped up one duffle and tossed the other to Felix, who caught it with just a tiny grunt. Phineas was surprised to see them so quick to leave. Sometimes when they visited, Micah would discuss things with him for hours. 

Micah had the massive suitcase in their other hand, running full speed back to the Unreliable. Felix ran behind them, unable to keep pace, but trying, regardless. 

He followed Micah up the plank, into the ship, up the stairs, and into their room. There, just a bit winded, he set the bag down. Micah was examining the tags on the bags, patting the outsides. 

“Should I-should I go?” Felix asked, finally catching his breath. 

“Well… yeah, probably,” Micah said after an extended pause. “I don’t know what’s in here.” 

“Oh, take these,” Micah said, once again lapsing the silence. They handed him a package wrapped in paper, obviously the meat Phineas had gifted them. Half the time Felix felt like it was a grand adventure, the other times he wondered-was it all just over glorified, overly difficult grocery shopping?

He was intrigued by the notion of Micah not knowing what remained in their bags, but Micah wouldn’t budge on letting him stay. So, Felix left, and he was actually startled by the sound of Micah’s door shutting. It glowed red, locked tight. 

Micah was already unzipping the bags, groaning with relief as neatly folded clothes lined the suitcase. 

_Finally. Finally._

Micah pulled out a full outfit, tossing it to the side momentarily. They examined the bags within the suitcase, taking mental inventory. Uncontrollable waves of excitement, and peace, washed over them. Items that had been packaged, preserved. Micah held a washcloth to their nose, and could still smell the last detergent they used. The Hope Scientists had been the ultimate geniuses. 

The duffles had more interesting relics within their depths. It was true, there was oil in the bags. Sealed containers of coconut oil, a dozen different soap sets, cologne, hair products, a set of clippers. A condensed look at their own vanity through lightly fragranced body care items. Tucked amongst it all. Ancient bit carts, media carts, a box of photographs, and books. 

“Please let there be fucking _weed_ in here,” they groaned, popping open an old cigarette case to reveal… nothing. They snapped it closed, letting their head fall. 

“God dammit,” they whimpered. “Can’t a bitch get some fucking weed in space?” 

But there wasn’t any, no drugs at all. Micah set all their bags aside, and slithered out of their patchwork clothing, and instead wrapped a large Rizzo’s Rangers towel around their shoulders. They picked up the clippers, going to their desk and setting up their mirror. They smoothed their shaggy hair, wetting their palms with a bottle of water first. Then, they switched the clippers on, and began trimming. 

ADA watched Micah methodically cut. Every line precise, it was clear they’d done it a million times before. And slowly, the Micah she remembered meeting began to form. Cropped close, those brilliant red locs fell like dust to the floor, and blended in with the towel draped over them. 

Even if their movements had been slow, it wasn’t long before they were done cutting. They shook off the towel, dried their hair, and then sighed happily as they ran their hands all over their fresh shave. 

Micah discarded the old towel, and pulled on _their_ clothes, the fabric stretching and conforming to their body. All of their clothes had been custom tailored on Earth, just out of necessity. They were good at sewing, and had to work around limitations in stock sizes since they’d been in Halcyon. 

It had been ages since they’d last worn something they truly liked. Micah had practically lived in athlesiure on Earth; thin layers, but full coverage nonetheless. They were fond of older bodysuits, and they pulled on a dark purple one now. Long sleeved, high necked, it zipped up the back. This one had a zipper across the upper chest, but Micah kept it closed. The black jogger pants they put on over it fit loose, and like a glove. They sifted through for an extra layer. A jacket, or vest. They were sensitive to the ever changing climates of each planet.

They found a sleeveless black hoodie, with white strings, and they slid into it, zipping it up just above their belly button. 

It felt so good. It felt so good! What a wonderful feeling. They put their shoes back on, puffed and preened. They fixed their hair in their reflection with a bit of product, misted themselves with cologne, and ADA’s voice chimed in quietly. 

“This look suits you, Captain,” she said. 

“Thank you, ADA!” Micah beamed at the tiny camera. They were glowing, filled to the brim with visible joy. Micah had her unlock their door, and they bounced out, lighter than air. They slid down to the bridge, and set their coordinates to Edgewater’s landing pad. 

It would be quick, it was still early in the morning. They’d be there before lunchtime. 

Curiosity had overtaken him when he heard their door open. Now, Felix was lingering by the lockers and shelves, hoping he could ask what they’d found in their bags. He wasn’t prepared for the entirely new silhouette emerging from the Bridge. He locked up when Micah noticed him, trying not to reach out and touch the shiny material covering their arms. 

“Wow, Boss,” was all he could manage, and Micah’s smile was ever present as they sauntered up. They looked… _natural!_ Felix couldn’t help but think this is how Micah was always supposed to be. 

“Do you like it? I missed my clothes! I can finally move!” Micah said, twisting their torso. Their back cracked, audibly, and Micah let out a relieved groan. 

“Ain’t seen clothes like this in Halcyon, but I don’t think anyone could pull them off like you do,” he said. Micah’s voice had pulled him out of his ogling. They held out their arm, and nodded at him when he reached out to touch the fabric. 

Micah could tell he wanted to see it all. Felix loved clothes, even if he didn’t branch out much in his personal wardrobe. Sometimes he would experiment with different undershirts, but he was partial to that jumpsuit. 

The pads of his fingers brushed over their arm, and recoiled quickly before diving back in. Felix placed one hand under their arm, supporting it with his palm. He pinched, pulled, and rubbed the edge of their sleeve. It was incredibly slick and stretchy, and didn’t wrinkle or pucker no matter how hard he twisted it. He completely forgot it was attached to Micah until their hand bent down, finger tapping the back of his own. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said quickly, but Micah just giggled a little. 

“It’s fine, you’re curious,” they smiled, “you can see more later.” 

“You should show everyone else,” he gestured to them, and they agreed. Micah didn’t go up the stairs, instead they climbed onto the lockers, and easily pulled themselves up the wall and over the railing. Felix had seen them do it before, but it never got less… nauseating? Uncomfortable? He didn’t know. 

There was something _off_ about Micah, he’d heard everyone whisper. He didn’t agree, he couldn’t agree. But… They were different. Very different. He thought Halcyon could use a little different. 

Nyoka whistled long and low as she and Ellie watched Micah haul themselves over the wall. 

“Who is _THAT!_ ” She cheered on their approach. Ellie clenched her jaw, feeling a bead of sweat slide down their neck. Micah looked good. Really good. The two women exchanged knowing looks. 

“I’m taking this as your way of saying Phineas got you your stuff back?” Ellie asked, “lookin’ good, Cap.” 

“Un poco,” Micah pinched their fingers together with a shrug, but it was clear that there had been an emotional shift. Micah’s calm and cool exterior had totally shattered. There was no apprehension to them. Their voice was loud as they talked with them. Chatting about their haircut with Ellie, and their clothes with Nyoka. Filling time before ADA docked them outside Edgewater. 

Max was on his third cup of coffee, sitting in his room trying to finish reading the last chapters of his book. A sharp knock came from outside, he’d already heard multiple commotions, but he opened the door anyway. 

“Holy shit,” he said, monotone, to Micah. 

“You coming with?” They asked. Max blinked at them, and they continued. 

“Just out.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you’d like?” He said. 

“Mhm, Muy bien,” they turned to leave, and Max cleared his throat. 

“Can I finish my coffee?” He asked. 

“Aye,” they agreed. 

Felix was waiting with Micah by the door, they were talking, but Max didn’t key in before they stopped to greet him. They stepped into the airlock to be acclimated to the atmospheric change slowly, and Micah told the same anecdote they did every time. Something about ships, and divers, and _the bends._

ADA disengaged the door lock. The door opened, and the trio stepped into the light. 

Off like a bullet, Max and Felix watched from the ramp as Micah vanished into the distance. It was instantaneous, blink and you miss it. 

“What the fuck are we supposed to do about that?” Max asked Felix, and all he could do was shrug. 

“It’s like letting a Candid out of a cage after fifty shots of adrena-time,” Felix said. 

“You can say that again… Law help us if we ever need to _catch_ them.” Max let out a sigh, putting his hands on his hips as he stared out to the point where Micah had vanished into the horizon. 

“I’ll bet you five bits they’re back in ten minutes,” he said. 

“I’ll bet you twenty they’re back in five. _With_ something to eat.” Felix countered. 

“Deal,” Max agreed. “Should we wait?” 

“Yeah, you want a smoke?” Felix was pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his vest, jogging down the Unreliable’s ramp to take a seat on one of the empty cargo crates. 

“I shouldn’t,” Max followed, and Felix smirked as he covered his cheap lighter’s dying flame. 

“C’mon, Vic, you scared?” 

“No. I’m old,” Max snorted, leaning up beside Felix, “but…” 

Felix held out another in his fingers, and Max took it reluctantly. He palmed the lighter that followed. He’d smoked in prison, heavily. He didn’t like to partake much anymore. But it was good after a cup of coffee. Or a couple cups of coffee. 

Felix was tapping one of his fingers against the side of the cargo bin. The two smoked, talking about that evening’s Tossball match. The Rangers weren’t playing, so they pondered if Micah would stay up and watch or sleep early. 

“They’re picky about their teams,” Max said, ashing the cigarette with a flick of his thumb against the filter. 

“I know. They mentioned they think Tossball here is for babies. Like, what did they expect?” Felix laughed. 

“Oh, boy,” Max groaned, “well, you know Earth Tossball was _controversial_.” 

“Yeah, but, like, how different could it have been? I know about the teams but nothing exists about the play style. It’s supposed to be exactly the same.” The long ash trail fell off Felix’s cigarette, straight onto his pant leg. 

“I don’t know,” Max shrugged, hiding a chuckle as Felix quickly swiped at his pants, grumbling to himself. 

**“Hey!”**

Micah appeared above them, suddenly. Having vaulted onto the stacked crates beside the one Felix was sitting on. Their boots smacked heavy on either side of Max’s head as they sat down on the higher platform. 

They were eating an entire loaf of sliced bread. 

“Four minutes, thirty six,” Felix smirked. 

“Damn,” Max tossed the butt of his cigarette down and stamped it out. 

“Making bets?” Micah asked, “on me?” 

“Maybe,” Felix hummed. 

“Shit, I haven’t had anybody bet on me in uh…” they paused as they folded another piece of bread in half. “Well. A grip.” 

“Boss, are you gonna watch Tossball tonight?” Felix asked. 

“Whose playing?” 

“Chosen and Hammers,” Max said. 

“Eugh.” Micah’s noise of disgust was guttural, and neither of them had expected it. 

“I’m taking that as a no, then?” Max said. 

“Look, it’s fun, but Halcyon Tossball doesn’t have half as much blood as Earth Tossball did. You all act like going five seasons on the same team here is impressive! On Earth, if you made it two, you were a superstar.” Micah explained. “Sportatoriums used to sell ponchos if you were in the Splash area off the Tuesday and Thursday zones!” 

“You’ve said before,” Max nodded, “it was… what did you call it?” 

“Gladiatorial,” Felix said for Micah, who was too busy shoving bread in their mouth to answer. 

“Right,” Max said, “an honest bloodsport.”

“I mean as honest as you can be when you’re beating people to death with sticks for a ball made of spikes, magnets, and pain,” Micah said, “so… yeah. Pretty honest?” 

“You used to play?” Max suggested. 

“Only for fun,” Micah said, “I grew up playing lacrosse, remember? Tossball started to replace it.” 

“Ah, the less violent parent,” Max joked, “it explains why you’re so handy with a stick.”

“Yeah, Boss, you’re practically a pro? Did you play on a local tea-“ 

“I played for fun, Felix,” Micah said, and the rest of his sentence fizzled out. Micah handed him a piece of bread, and he accepted. 

“Where did you even get that?” Max asked, looking skywards to take in Micah’s face. Their boots clonked loudly on either side of him as they swung their legs for a minute, staring back. 

“My pocket,” they said, smirking and giggling. “No, I bought it.” 

“That fast?” He asked. “It takes two minutes for the cashiers to get through their jingles.” 

“Not for me!” Micah said, “but yeah, I was hungry.” 

“You ate breakfast, though,” Max continued. 

“Yeah,” they nodded, “now I’m eating bread.” 

“Boss, can I have an-“ Micah cut Felix off by handing him two more slices. 

“You want some?” They dangled a perfectly square piece down in front of his face. 

“No,” Max said. 

“You sure?” Micah asked, wiggling the bread. Max couldn’t stand how Micah got under his skin so efficiently. In the quiet tension, Max’s stomach growled. 

“Fuck you,” Max said quickly, snatching the slice of bread. Micah and Felix fell to pieces. Micah doled out the rest of the loaf between the three of them, and the Captain basked in the warm sun, eyes closed as they ate. 

“It’s crazy to me that Tossball players wear helmets here,” Micah said, “but, like I said.” 

“What are we even doing back in Emerald Vale?” Max asked, clearly antsy. 

“Adelaide has some chickens and greens for me,” Micah said, “so I wanted to come get them.” 

“Chickens? We’re bringing on _chickens_ , now?” He gawked, and Micah shook their head. 

“No, they’re for dinner. I’m meeting her to help with the slaughtering,” Micah said, “that’s why I’m carbo-loading.” 

“You’re gonna choke the chicken, Boss?” Felix smirked, and Micah let out a howl of a laugh to the sky that would have split their companion’s eardrums had they not been perched above them both. 

“It’s bloody work!” Micah said through their laughter, “I’m used to it, though.” 

“What exactly are you planning on _making_ with these chickens?” Max pondered, and Micah hummed at him. 

“It’s been a couple days since you mentioned those special dinner plans,” Felix’s eyebrows quirked you quickly, “is it for that?” 

“Special dinner plans?” Max looked back up at Micah. 

“I want to make my favorite food,” Micah surrendered, bashful, if anything. The last thing Max would have expected. Micah was so self assured, the mock shyness almost threw him off guard. Of course, they’d also admitted that little tidbit about paranoia. 

“Really?” Was all he said. 

“Mhm! I managed to get everything I couldn’t get here when we were on the Groundbreaker! Last time I had it was… uh, like 70 years ago,” Micah explained, “I’ve been missing it. I wasn’t about to use bought chickens, either. Factory meat is fucked up.” 

“That's true,” Felix nodded, both Max and Micah looked at him, and he blushed. “What? I read it in an old thing a while ago. Most of it? It’s terrible.” 

“So, Felix, you think it’s a good thing our Captain is going to go cut the heads off some animals, but a bad thing when the Board does it?” 

“Yeah.” Felix said. Micah let them argue. “Yeah, Max, I think it’s fine. Boss is sourcing their meat reliably, and locally, _and_ they’re personally helping with the processing. Adelaide doesn’t force feed her animals shit that gives them tumors.” 

“Felix wins,” Micah said, popping the last bit of bread in their mouth before shoving off the cargo crate. They landed a few inches in front of Max. He could _feel_ the heat radiating off of their body. Their new clothes seemed to trap all the warmth from the sun and amplify it. 

“Sorry, Vicar Maximillian DeSoto,” Micah gave him a sympathetic smile. In truth, Max agreed with Micah. He’d wanted to see if Felix was lying about his own knowledge on the subject, but he’d been wrong. He couldn’t help feeling like a third wheel, or maybe an out of touch chaperone for the younger ones in his company. 

Surely, he’d agreed to it. But he trailed a bit farther behind Micah and Felix as they bobbed and swayed, laughing at each other’s out-of-earshot jokes. It was fascinating to see. Micah had never disclosed their age to him, not yet, but he couldn’t imagine someone as young as Felix bonding with someone so much _older_ like Micah. Felix wasn’t even Twenty-Five. But they had a strange synchronicity, it often had Max thinking the loathing thought that there were two of them. 

“Hey, Vicar,” Micah called, walking backwards with their hands deep in their pockets. 

“Yes, Captain?” 

“Do you think about what happens after we die?” They asked. 

“Oh, Boss,” Felix flinched, “this again?”

“Again?” Max was befuddled. 

Felix shook their head back at Max, but Micah was waiting so patiently for an answer. 

“You think of it?” He asked back, and Micah nodded. How mature. How patronizing. 

“I don’t think now is the time for this, maybe tomorrow?” He suggested. Micah was a welcome source of conversation in the mornings, if blunt, and he could see the constant stimulus shifting behind their eyes. Not a wild eyed frenzy, but a calculative gaze. 

It was a respite, at the core. 

“Sure, sure. I’m interested to hear your hot takes,” Micah nodded, and Felix grinned at the use of more lingo. Max felt like Micah was old fashioned, even for the Hope’s, or Earth’s standards. They knew more about the 1940’s than any Halcyon scholar. Their clothes were practically a historical recreation of sportswear from the early 2000’s. The idea of anybody wearing a skin tight, paper thin sheet of soft woven plastic, covering their entire body, requiring zippers to even remove, was _so_ 2000’s. 

It was impractical! 

But… that was Micah. At the core, that was Micah. 

Impractical. 

Max stalled outside of Edgewater’s gates. Micah noticed and pulled back to his side. 

“Hey, you wanna wait on the ship? It’s cool, it’s cool, I only said come along cause you didn’t get out on the Groundbreaker, cause you think it stinks and that one time you and I went drinking and someone puked on your shoes and-“ 

“I get it, Captain. Thank you,” he scowled, “I’m fine, I assure you.” 

“It’s nasty work, dude. If you want t-“ Micah was interrupted by Max scowling even harder. He knew they were being genuine, but how _patronizing._

“I lived next to that horrid Saltuna plant for… I don’t even know how long. I’m certainly capable enough,” he said. Micah clapped a hand onto his shoulder, shaking him a bit with a laugh. 

“Good to hear! C’mon, then!” 

It was nasty work. Max and Felix both gracefully ducked out after watching Micah behead the first feathered beast. They found a place around the corner where they could loiter in peace.

Max accepted another cigarette with a covert belch, and Felix let out a groan as he squatted in place. The two smoked in silence, not moving or talking. Felix would flinched every time they heard the distant, wet, **_thunk!_**

“Yeesh,” Felix whispered, deciding then to chain smoke. They’d both put down plenty of bugs, dogs, and dudes, but there was something about this particular act that made them both sick to their stomachs. 

“Have they said anything to you about how they grew up?” Max asked Felix in between the silencing of the squawks, and he furrowed his brows hard. 

“Not really, just that it was, like, really remote.” He said, “and that the food sucked sometimes. And that they traveled a lot when they were a kid.” 

“So what I know,” Max sighed, taking another one of the rainbow cigarettes from Felix with the promise to pay him back for the pack. They were clearly going to finish it.

“Why? You got questions for ‘em?” 

“No… not really,” he said, taking Felix’s lighter, “not like they’d answer them. Did you know they’re paranoid?” 

“Oh, yeah. They told me right away,” Felix said, “during the first Tossball match we stayed up for. They thanked me for staying up, and then told me why.” 

“And it was because they’re paranoid?” Max asked, almost disbelieving. He hadn’t expected _that_ from Felix. 

“Yeah! What about it?” Felix scoffed, accusatory. “It can’t be easy being dropped in the middle of a new string of planets. You remember how I was when I first got off Groundbreaker.” 

“ _Nervous_.” Max mumbled. Felix scoffed again and let a stream of smoke out of his nostrils. He and Micah had gone on plenty of short, acclimating walks together when he’d first come aboard. The amount of sky was so different than then expanse of space, no longer void, the horizon had stricken fear into his core, and the ocean had harbored all the monsters of his worst nightmares. Micah had been there, every time, though. When he started to flake, they escorted him safely back to the comfort of his room. They would put on reruns of his favorite aetherwaves, and they’d sit together in silence and eat popped tobacorn until he told them he felt fine. 

Now, he took a peek up at the red, pink, orange tinted sky, and felt nothing but calm.

“We just clicked like that. Halcyon is bigger than you’d think, Vic. It’s pretty easy to get knocked on your ass out here. Boss has my back, I have theirs. Wherever we end up going.” 

Felix always spoke from his heart. Max found his brave naivety somewhat endearing the longer he knew him. It was still a little startling to hear that his young shipmate was that dedicated to Micah. Who, as far as he knew, was a compulsive liar, and possibly insane. 

Fuck, he was there too, though. Even with his own self his priority… he was still _here_. He hadn’t gone back to the ship, he was standing next to Felix, listening to the drone of Edgewater. A place Max had been so desperate to leave, now standing in the town of his own free will. Micah had given him the choice, many times over, and he’d made his decisions. He’d been just as eager to throw in as everyone else had been.

“So, what, man?” Felix asked, “you’re awful quiet after interrogating me. You passing your Brainiac judgement on me, or something?” 

“What? No,” Max shook his head, “I was just… surprised to hear you so… _impassioned_ about the Captain, Felix.” 

“Boss is good to us. They’re a good person. The colony is full of jackasses, aren’t you at least glad you fell in with someone who has your best interests in mind?” 

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Max admitted, “thank you for your perspective.” 

“I’m not here to philosophize with you, man.” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“My job.”


	4. Running Lonely [Version 1]

Adelaide’s hand grabbed Micah’s forearm as they dug in the dirt together. Micah stilled, and looked at the older woman, who was staring calmly at them. 

“Yes?” They asked, and Adelaide sighed vaguely. 

“You know, I thought you were evil,” she said, “when you sent us all back here, shut us out in the dark. I thought you were as black hearted as they come. Thank you for working so hard to prove me wrong.” 

“Anytime,” Micah nodded, “I hope my contributions help everybody. That’s all I want to do.” 

“Help people, huh?” She murmured. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” 

“You’re the one that told me you’d consider reconciliation if I brought you piles of bodies.” Micah didn’t even continue to look at her, just went back to pulling potatoes from the loamy soil. She and Micah had argued endlessly after it first happened, and Micah never said they were right. Just that they wanted to help as many people as they could. Eventually, the two had to come to a truce, because Micah refused to leave her alone. 

“That I did, I’ll admit. Thank you for that, too,” Adelaide actually gave in to a reluctant laugh. Micah _was_ certainly helpful. The amount of seeds they’d managed to provide from clever black market, cross colony trades had nearly tripled their little farm’s supply. And the regular corpse deliveries kept the surrounding areas safe from Marauders. Overall, they’d done more good than harm. Even if they did eat more than a mega candid. 

“I hope you can use the new seeds well. I don’t know if they survived all this time, but if anyone here can get them to grow, I think it’s you,” Micah said, “there’s only a few, but the plants they produce give off lots of seeds. You’ll only need one successful plant’s harvest to set yourself up.” 

“Good to know. I’ll let you know if I get any sprouts out of them,” she nodded, “if I do, I’ll need another batch of fertilizer.” 

“I’ll handle it, just give me a call when you need me,” Micah said, “anytime, okay? I mean that. Just don’t tell my crew.” 

Adelaide was no longer taken aback by their insistence. They always did the body deliveries alone, and even now the crew members they’d brought along had made themselves absent. Instead, Micah had taken care of the chickens that had stopped laying, alone. Now they were here, digging up vegetables and snipping herbs with tiny shears, alone. But they were always shockingly communal. There was always somebody around them. They had a radiating aura of… togetherness? 

She was around them… Earlier they’d brought out sealed containers of seeds. Seeds from Earth, seeds that nobody could possibly have, and they’d handed them over with hand written instructions on how to grow each type. Adelaide’s curiosity had become overwhelming, so they stayed to “watch” Micah in the garden. As was their usual. 

“Were you a farmer? On Earth?” 

“Something like that,” Micah shrugged, “my family lived really rural. I guess you could say it was a farm, but it was just for my family. We didn’t really have a lot of guests. We just provided for ourselves, took care of ourselves.” 

“You aren’t a Doctor, either?” 

Micah shook their head, told them not _officially_. They’d never gone to medical school. But anybody could study. And they loved to study. 

“So how exactly is it that you learned to dissect people?” Adelaide asked. Micah once again stopped moving, and didn’t lift their eyes. 

“I’d rather not say,” they said. That was it. 

“No more elaboration?” 

“That’s all I have,” Micah shrugged.

“That’s not something usually learned by normal peo-“ 

“Do I look normal, Adelaide?” Micah was aware that they were a spectacle, but what could they do about it? 

At least here people actually recognized their abilities as strange rather than brushing them aside. They also… didn’t really care. Or maybe they cared too much. They’d hollowed themselves out inside, just a little bit, and curled the soft, vulnerable creature that slept soundly within them safely into that deep hole. And they’d sealed it off. They’d sealed it up tight, they faced their reflection with dignity, and they couldn’t act like anything bothered them more than the grief wracking inside of them already. If people saw it, if they didn’t, what could Micah do?

They were always going to be themselves. 

“I suppose you don’t,” Adelaide said, and Micah continued to brush dirt off a large onion. Real, meaningful connection was so important, and so scarce. Micah could always find themselves once they buried their hands in the ground. The dirt was always there, always underneath, always friendly to a burrowing hand. Usually. 

“I think we all need to take stock of the world as it is, and we all need to reach out and grab onto each other, and cling. Humans have arms that so perfectly enfold another person, hands that seam together, our bodies are soft. We’re soft,” Micah said, “I apologize, you know? If you’re still not over me shutting down the power, I get it. I do. I really do. I’ve had my fair share of bad turns. Ones I don’t think I can ever get over, as long as I’m living. But I’m thinking of everyone, Adelaide. I want _everyone_ to make it. Y’know. Besides the board freaks.” 

“At least we’re can agree on that. Even if you didn’t kill Reed.”

“If I’d done that, nothing would have been resolved as smoothly as it has been,” Micah explained, “he stepped down, and he told me he was going off into the wild to die. Which is pretty stupid. I don’t think it’s that tough out there.” 

“You really are thick in the head, aren’t you?” Adelaide snorted in bemusement. “Not difficult? It took us ages to be as safe as we were at the botanical lab.” 

“And you did it, right? Once you crossed that hurdle you were fine.” They said. 

“Until you came along.” 

“Now you have a city, and power, and as many seeds and bodies as this rust bucket can handle,” Micah said, “and I have a cool sign for my room.” 

“I guess that makes us… even?” Adelaide said. 

“In my book,” Micah agreed, packing the final few items into their basket. It was a massive, rectangular thing. Micah would never admit to anyone it was an old laundry basket they’d refinished after Phineas suggested some kind of hands-on project to keep them from having a complete meltdown in his Lab. 

“Thank you for your work, and thank you for letting me partake in it,” Micah said, standing and hoisting the singular strap over their shoulder. The basket rested against their chest and belly, and they held it securely at the bottom. Micah extended their hand, paused, and then wiped it on their pants. They held it out again. 

Adelaide accepted the handshake, firm but not painful. Micah shook up and down, up and down. Two, and quick, and then it was over. Then, they jostled their basket, and was out of her sight.

Micah didn’t stop as they passed Felix and Max, instead, the two half tripped over their feet to fall in behind them once they’d noticed their emergence. Micah walked a few paces ahead, Max and Felix watched their shoulders rock back and forth hypnotically with the weight of their full basket. Micah wanted a shower. Max wanted a breath mint. Felix wanted Micah to shower and then let him shower. 

The Unreliable waited for them in the distance, and Micah paused at the crest of the hill, staring out over the glittering ocean. Terra-2 had that expansive coastline, too far to see anything on the horizon. They’d been warned about the water before, but they still let themselves get lost in the fantasy of diving under the crisp surface, shattering it like a mirror.

“Vamanos,” they said after a minute, to themselves, and the trio returned to the ship. 

“Max, after I shower, I’ll have something for you,” Micah said while they were sealed in the airlock. They hummed quietly, and Max didn’t bother to ask for clarification. He knew he’d find out eventually. 

ADA cleared them for entry, and the three of them separated to take care of their own business. 

The Unreliable was filled with wonderful smells as afternoon faded into early evening. Even Ellie made herself busy in the kitchen as an excuse to be awash in them. Max was pouring over a thick book Micah had oh-so-casually handed him upon their return from Edgewater. Glistening, post-shower. 

That vision of them, blood splattered after the whole affair, holding a covered basket of fresh vegetables and plucked birds, had completely vanished when they’d placed the hardcover into his palms. 

_Solaris._

_“It's fiction,”_ they’d said, _“I think you’ll like it.”_

So far, he was captivated. Others would consider it boring, or slow. Inaccessible. But Micah had it, and their copy had a broken spine, and fingerprint stained pages. Dog earred, worn out. There’d been a collection of sticky notes as he went, full of notes written in Spanish, and Polish. 

_“You can’t keep it.”_

Max was careful with the ancient paper. Peeling back the adhesive of the brightly colored, miniature pages, and organizing them in the back of the book. Maybe he would ask Micah to translate them for him. He couldn’t help but glance up over and over and over, questions being bitten back only by the crowded table. Micah turned over their shoulder a little, caught his eye, and winked before returning to their busywork in the kitchen. 

Parvati climbed up the ladder into the common area, and froze when she saw the crew. Nobody seemed to notice her, though, except Micah, who greeted her warmly. Micah was sparkling clean, a sharp contrast to her own sweat and grease slicked skin. She would have to wash up. 

“Everything good? I haven’t seen you since breakfast!” They asked her as she came to peek at what Micah was stirring in the giant pot. 

“Uh-huh. That trip to the Groundbreaker did wonders,” she said. 

“I expect you to get some sleep tonight, then,” Micah muttered. Parvati blushed, and let out a little sigh of defeat. 

“Sure, Captain. Sorry if I worried you.” 

“Not worried, just looking out for you. I don’t want you getting sick, yeah?” Micah said, “I’m assuming I’m still Vaccinated considering I got all my flu shots ten minutes before getting frozen solid, but none of you are. All it takes is closed quarters like this and a mysterious illness to potentially wreak havoc into total destruction.” 

Parvati looked queasy until Micah’s roaring laugh made it clear they were just joking. But they were also thinking about that, and how Edgewater’s plagues just seemed like intense, untreated Flus. Serious, not anything to be taken lightly, but something they usually treated on Earth with canned soup and apple juice. 

Micah would have to work on a vaccine. Or try to. They weren’t the best with vaccines, better with making compounds. It was easier to press a powder into a pill than isolate and kill a virus, make it safe, injectable, and consistent. 

“What’s this?” Parvati asked. Micah blinked down at the pot, forgetting that they were distracted in the first place. 

“My favorite food,” Micah said, “I know it’s soup, but I just really like soup. It’s Ajiaco!”

Parvati repeated it back, and Micah explained the ingredients, pointing at the remnants of the vegetables as they did. As fluent as they were in English, they preferred the casual Cubano Spanish over any language they spoke. Sometimes things just didn’t translate, mostly it just felt forgotten here. Micah often longed for someone they could really converse with. Felix had picked up bits and pieces, but it was still one or two word responses. It wasn’t quick, and fluent. It was just another guy learning the most basic of phrases second hand. 

“What is **that**?” Nyoka’s voice cut the air, and Micah looked back to see Nyoka peering closely at a pink sticky note. 

“Oh? Was that in there?” They asked, pointing at the open book. Max agreed. 

“Let me see,” they offered, reaching across the table for the outstretched slip. 

“Can I see?” Felix asked, and they turned it around, showing him the scribbled Polish. 

“It’s my old school notes,” they said, “part of my thesis.” 

“Woah, Cap,” Ellie smirked, “you wrote a _thesis?_ On what, ass beating?” 

“Sure,” they nodded, but Nyoka saw their eyes flit back to the note. They read it twice over, and then tucked it inside their sweatshirt. 

“You wrote that?” Nyoka asked, “what was it?” 

“Polish,” they said, “of course I wrote it. There’s some Spanish ones, too. I would research in the native tongue, translate into mine.” 

“Far out,” Nyoka laughed, “you’re full of surprises.” 

“Uh, Captain… if I may interject?” Max asked, and Micah directed their attention to him. “Can we discuss all of that privately? I have some thoughts I’d like to share about it so far.” 

“See ya later, Wicker Man,” they nodded. 

_Wicker Man?_

Max brushed it off. All too aware of how rowdy everyone was getting. Volume was rising, as was the temperature. Micah seemed to be effortlessly balancing the chaotic conversations, bouncing topics and answers around to everyone, giving them all their undivided attention for a moment before giving it to someone else. Max wondered how they managed. There was the faintest sheen of sweat on their brow, but it could have just been from the steam. 

He watched them, wrangling the other members of their little group. Micah looked like a baby-sitter. And a critically underpaid one at that. As voices continued to rise, he finally couldn’t take it. Max excused himself to his room, closing the door with a rigid sigh, shutting out the sensory overload. 

Parvati was the next to go, needing a shower and quick nap before dinner was served. Nyoka and Ellie went off-ship to drink at the bar. Felix remained seated at the table. 

“Crazy how quickly things go quiet, hm? One person leaves and the rest scatter like bugs.” Micah laughed toward him, “you didn’t want to go drinking?” 

“Not really,” he said, “they didn’t invite me, anyway.” 

“You could have asked? Nyoka loves drinking with you,” they sighed, “but it’s nice to have someone else around, hm?” 

Felix bounced his leg a little quicker when they said that. He didn’t know if they knew that he’d wanted to stay behind for _them_. The food smelled great, and Micah had a big day beforehand. Plus, they’d put on a new outfit after getting back, and he wanted to see what the faded logo on the front was up close. 

“I might go change,” Micah sighed, “this shirt is hot.”

“What, really? You look great, though.” 

“Thanks,” they scoffed, “it’s still Hot.” 

They were impossible to read, sliding into the chair next to his with a huff. They rolled their sleeves up, offering him a prime view of their massive, tanned forearms. They crossed them loosely on the table, the skin of their hands, and cuticles around now-black lacquered fingernails had very clearly been scrubbed almost raw. They reached into their shirt, chest puffing out again. 

“I gotta stop making soup,” they mumbled, rubbing their eye with the heel of their palm. They were looking at the pink sticky note from earlier, but tucked it back into their pants pocket afterwards. 

“Make whatever you want, Boss,” Felix said.

“It gets boring. Wait here, okay?” Micah got up again, heading to their room. They came back holding two cookbooks and a few old magazines. 

“We can look through these. If you see something you like, I can try my best!” They beamed at him, flipping open the hardback cover. 

Pictures, and pictures, and pictures of food so wonderful looking Felix could practically smell the pages. He was amazed by everything, but when Micah flipped to the section for family meals, he stopped them. 

“Woah,” he said, pointing at the page. Micah leaned back, taking in the true American Sunday Fare. 

Beef roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, bread, and roasted vegetables. 

“Something like this?” They asked, “I’m not sure how easily I could get something like beef in large enough supply for all of us. I could try it with Rapt, but… it might be too gamey… or lizardy. Tastes like Alligator.” 

“It’s fine, let’s keep looking. I just was like, _woah_ , you know? The fact people on earth ate that kinda stuff so much that it’s part of a normal meal plan is beyond me.” Felix played it off with a chuckle, and Micah was already flipping to show him various pasta and rice dishes. 

They paused over a remarkably red page. Glossy, shiny, _spicy_. Soft shell chili crabs. Micah could have torn it out and eaten the paper. 

“This is the shit,” they said to him, pointing directly at it. “This? This fucks.” 

Felix couldn’t help but laugh at their sparkling, deathly serious insistence. Everything they’d showed him so far looked delicious, but the more they pushed the book toward him, the more he believed that this _was_ something delicious. 

He wondered what they had in store for them tonight. If _that_ was Micah’s favorite, what could it possibly taste like? 

“Do you love food?” He asked, and Micah’s words died in the air. 

“Of course I do,” they said, “food is joy.” 

_Food is joy. Food is joy._

It bounced around inside the space between them, sitting close at the table. Somehow, this felt like the most revealing statement they’d ever uttered. 

How could you describe food? If you hate it, if you love it? Why do you love it? What does it mean? 

To eat, to cook, to share. To serve. To form, create, and nurture. 

To Taste...

For Micah. It was joy. 

That joy was felt up to their eyeballs later. With everyone seated for dinner, bowls piled with potatoes, chicken, corn, and leafy herbs. Nobody offered any critique, despite it being soup again. The crew, however, all knew that this was something Micah had put a lot of work into. 

They were all hungry. 

Hours spent in the kitchen would not be wasted. 

They hovered, waiting for some invisible signal, an unheard chime to ring out and tell them to eat. 

All eyes stared at their bowls, but saw, instantly, when Micah lifted their spoon. They followed, and then they all ate together. 

It wasn’t a wolffish feast, no rancorous laughter or arguments. The table was quiet, but they were all together. Micah couldn’t imagine a better compliment. 

Everybody ate seconds. Everybody. Felix, Nyoka, and Micah ate thirds. There was a single serving left, which Micah packed away carefully into the fridge. As tempting as it was to all of them, the crew made an unspoken pact that they would leave it for Micah. 

“Was it good?” They asked, setting the dishes in the sink. 

“Oh, very,” Nyoka said, letting out a loud burp. 

“It was mighty good, cap,” Parvati agreed, and they slowly dissipated as they all became aware that Micah was about to ask for help with the dishes. Max volunteered again, and Felix headed back to his room. 

“We’ll talk tonight?” Max asked. 

“Oh, of course. Coffee?” They agreed. 

“That would be wonderful,” he nodded, accepting wet dishes to dry as they were passed to him. 

“Did you like dinner?” They asked softly, and Max continued to dry. 

“I had seconds, didn’t I?” He shrugged. 

“Okay, but everybody did. I didn’t make lunch today, so who knows?” They shrugged back. 

“Captain, can’t you just take the fucking compliment?” 

Micah burst out laughing, head tilting back as they lost grip on the pan they were scrubbing. It fell back into the water, splashing the front of their sweatshirt completely. 

“Ah, shit!” They gasped, still half laughing. 

They fell silent as quickly as they laughed, and they finished the dishes together. Micah drained the sink, and washed it. They took the cloth from Max, dried the sink, and then rinsed, snapped, and hung the towel to dry. 

“Don’t tell me SAM can do it,” they said to him, and he rolled his eyes. 

“I did the dishes growing up, Captain,” he said, “you don’t have to explain it to me.” 

“Good, then I won’t,” they said. 

Max regretted that. An instant wash of self directed anger pinched him between the eyes. He furrowed his brows hard, and watched Micah move from the kitchen to the stairs, clearly going to change. 

He let out a deep sigh through his nose, rubbing his chin and the sides of his face where the first inclination of daily facial hair was beginning to appear. After a long minute of contemplation, he, too, returned to his room. He closed the door, not wishing to disturbed by anybody until later. 

Micah asked ADA to close the door, and then stripped off their wet hoodie, and the tank top underneath it. They patted their belly absently as they blew raspberries, picking through the folded fabrics. 

“With so much, there’s nothing,” they sighed. Suddenly it became abundantly clear why everybody else had so few outfits, primarily cycling through the same ones. The illusion of choice was something else… 

They picked up an identical hoodie to the orange one, except in an indigo hue. They held it open, scratching their chest. Old soda… 

“ADA, do you ever want to eat?” Micah asked, and ADA zoomed her ocular processors onto Micah’s exposed, muscular back. 

“Occasionally, Captain. Mostly after you arrived,” her voice was cheerful. 

“Ah! Gracias! Does my food look good?” They chuckled, “I know SAM doesn’t eat it, but he still wants snacks.” 

“While I do not possess the correct inner workings to taste or digest food, nor can I smell, I will say some of those desserts are…” 

“Are…?” 

“I was going to say tempting, but that would be idiotic.” ADA said, following up with a few hollow laughs. “Was this conversation motivated, Captain?” 

“Kinda. I really liked some of the Rizzo’s sodas that didn’t make it to Halcyon,” they said, turning around and showing ADA the circular logo on the front. 

“Tacky. Very you.” ADA said, and Micah grinned back. They shimmied into it, and stuck their hands into the deep front pocket. They frowned, pulling their finger out to see the tip of it bleeding. They licked the blood from the cut, sticking it against their lips, and they carefully pulled the Tossball from their pocket. Barbed, bloody, _old._

“Oh, shit?” Micah mumbled, “I haven’t worn this since…”

_“I packed,”_ they thought. 

They twisted the ball at the center, deactivating the blades on the barbs, and making it safe to handle. Micah licked the blood off their diamond tooth, letting out a low whistle. 

“Ah, I know…” they said, wrapping their finger with a bandage from their first aid kit. They put the Tossball back into their pocket, and took off out of their room 

“Hey… here,” Micah said, and Felix looked over from his datapad. Micah was leaning on his doorframe, taking up most of it. They’d changed shirts, out of that orange sweatshirt and into a deep navy one advertising Rizzo’s Blueberry Slam. They had something concealed in their hand, but it only took one ambient flick of the wrist to reveal that it was a tossball. It spun perfectly in the air, and returned to their hand like it was created there. 

“Boss, I have like, thirty Tossballs,” he said, but Micah just shook their head. He sat up, swinging his feet onto the ground. 

“Come see,” they said, moving into his room. They shut the door behind them, and Felix leaned to look, cocking an eyebrow in their direction. Micah gave them a light chuckle, and swung his chair around backwards, taking a seat on it. They pressed their chest against the back of the shell, and held out their hand. 

“From Earth,” they said, holding their hand out. It was like they were holding a mock-Apple. He brought his hand up to theirs, and they traded it into his possession.

When he took a look at it, his stomach dropped. 

“Boss… is this a Championship ball?” He asked. It was emblazoned with the original Rizzo’s Ranger’s Sportatorium name and logo. _Covered_ in blood. 

“M-hm. Second ever. Rocky Mountain Soldiers versus-“ 

“The Rangers, of course.” 

“Of course,” Micah grinned, “I found it in my pocket.” 

“ _Suuuuure._ How many bits did this even cost?” He smirked. 

“It’s worth a fortune, but, like I said,” they shrugged. There was a beat. 

“It’s for you.” Micah explained. 

“What? Really!” Felix asked, and they nodded at him. 

“Take care of it,” they nodded at his hand, and Felix curled his fingers around it, careful of the giant spikes, still sharp, despite having the safety on. 

“You got it,” he promised. “But… seriously, how did you even get this? SubLight? Gladys?” 

“If you’re not gonna believe me about the pocket thing, I guess it just has to stay a mystery,” Micah sighed. Felix groaned and leaned forward, looking up at Micah where they half-hung on the chair. 

“Aw, c’mon, boss!” He urged, but Micah denied him any further explanation. Instead, they reached down and pat his head firmly, twice. Their palm settled on his hair, and they scratched into it, musing it at the front. 

“Wash your hair,” Micah said. He pushed up their arm off his head, and smoothed his hair back. His face was red, and Micah was tempted to push back down and ruffle his hair a second time. They just pulled their arm back, crossing it again, and resting their chin on their forearms. 

“I’m out of shampoo,” he grumbled, “I forgot to get some on Groundbreaker. I didn’t find out until tonight.” 

“Oh, just use some of mine. What’s up your alley smell-wise? Cucumber Melon? Jasmine and peach? Seaweed?” They asked. 

“I have no idea,” Felix said. He always just used the bottled 5-in-1 concoctions from wherever was cheapest. In truth, he always wondered how Micah kept their skin so soft and smooth despite all the fighting, and working, and washing. 

“If you want to swing by after my talk with Max, I’ll get some out for you,” Micah promised, “you can do the most trusted test.” 

“The sniff test,” Felix agreed. 

“Yeah, exactly! I can’t give you the one I use, though. Sorry,” they apologized. 

“Your signature scent? What are you, a Byzantium Gold Blood?” He teased. Micah scoffed at him, pointing at his chest. 

“You’ve got something on your shirt,” they said. When he looked down to see the stain, Micah’s finger bumped his nose. They made a cartoonish _**bonk!**_ noise with their mouth. 

“Gotcha,” Micah smiled, giving him a little wink. 

“Gee. Thanks, Boss,” Felix rolled his eyes. He’d have to remember that move. He wanted to use it on everybody. 

“Oh, hey, by the way… I got you another bottle of Spectrum,” Micah said, “I thought it was shitty of Ellie and Nyoka to drink yours. If you want, I can keep it in my room up with the rest.” 

“You won’t drink it?” 

“I don’t really like to drink alone,” Micah confessed. “I just keep some up there for, like, emergency purposes. My liquor cart is mostly used for disinfecting.” 

“What constitutes an emergency to you?” He chuckled. He’d never seen Micah panic before. Micah sighed, and squinted as they thought. 

“I don’t know. What if my ass hurts or something,” they said, “or Nyoka drinks all my Glacier?” 

“Okay, good point.” He said, “Thanks, Boss. I appreciate it.” 

“Sure thing! I mean, we were restocking anyway.” They smiled, and then they got up to leave. 

“Oh, hey, Boss?” 

“Yeah, Felix?” 

“Is this… is this really for me?” He asked, holding out the ball again. Micah started at it, then looked Felix dead in the eye. He felt like he’d been electrocuted by their gaze. 

“I’m certain of it,” they smiled, and then they turned around, and left. He listened to the _tamp tamp tamp tamp tamp_ of their footsteps down the stairs, and then they stopped. They continued, getting louder again, and then Micah’s head popped back into frame. 

“You’re the best.” They nodded, “remember to come by for shampoo!” And then they were gone. They’d closed his door for him, and then headed toward the kitchen this time. 

Felix’s heart had jumped just a beat when Micah had praised him, but he swallowed it down quickly. He rolled the ball in his hands for a minute, looking at the pristine surface. Besides the blood and battle damage, it really did look brand new. 

Felix would have to ask Parvati if he could bum some spare parts to build a stand for it. Otherwise it would just live on his desk… which was mostly Rizzo’s bottles. 

This was a prized possession to him, already. How could Micah just give it away so easily? Had this really been in their belongings from Earth? How… wild. 

They hadn’t thought anything was particularly different about that night. Nyoka was snoring from her room, Ellie and Parvati had their doors closed, SAM was cleaning the bridge. 

Micah got the little coffee maker out, and made another pot of coffee for themselves and Max. Sugar, cinnamon, a touch of vanilla. Micah put two mugs, and three different containers of creamer onto a tray, and took the pot in their other hand. 

His door was closed, and their hands were full. They grunted, tilting their head back, and then knocking full force twice. They heard a thump and scrabbling, muffled cursing, and finally footsteps. The door slid open, and Max, jolted by the noise, looked up at Micah. 

“Hi,” they cooed, mouth curling up. “Sorry, I had to knock.” 

“Fucking really? Did you use your Law Damned head? Is it made of granite?” He mocked. 

“Actually, it’s Chromium,” they said, sliding into his room. He took his seat again. 

Micah popped the top off his OSI vial and Max made a disgruntled noise as his captain knocked two big shots into the coffee mugs. Not like it wouldn’t promptly be refilled, but the knowledge alone made him feel _watched._

“Cream?” They asked. 

“Actually, do you have anything non-dairy?” Max asked. 

“Mhm, Oat or Cashew?” They asked. 

“Cashew, please,” he cleared his throat, “I’m quite eager for this little rendezvous.” 

“You’re liking it, then?” They asked, setting the boozy coffee down at his table. 

“Very much, Captain. Their portrayal of space life is so primitive in comparison, it’s amazing to see Earth painted as such.” Max said, hand lying protectively over the cover. They lowered themselves into the chair, but still towered over Max. They considered sitting on the floor before, but Max had called it degrading. They didn’t know for who. 

“Really? I guess Halcyon is a little rural in comparison, but I think my perspective is warped,” they said. 

“Earth has always been our Mother, in terms of how young the colony is. They support us, and they offered care at the start,” he said, and Micah frowned just a little. 

“Do you ever miss it, Captain?” He asked. 

Micah cleared their throat, taking a long drink of their coffee. They set the mug down and shrugged. 

“Sometimes.” 

“That’s all, I assume?” 

“Mhm,” they nodded, “back to the book-“

Max cut them off, an accident, as he began to talk. Micah listened, watching his hand as it moved in the air, and they didn’t know why he was speaking so confidently about the text he was barely a third of the way through. It was halfway into his pastoral sermon that he flipped open the cover to the compilation of notes. 

“Of course, I’m certain everything would be clear if you relented enough from your stubborn position of secrecy and told me what was in these,” he said. They stilled in their seat, shoulders stiffening so slightly. 

“Isn’t it all superfluous? Pretending it’s so worthy of being guarded? Isn’t it just your academics? You gave me that Journal, but you can actually _translate_ these-“

“You love to speculate, hm? All the time?” Micah asked quietly. Max sat back a bit, their observation was astute, and poignant. They hadn’t said it in their laid back tone, there was a heaviness behind their words. 

“... Well, isn’t that our nature? To be curious? To want answers?” 

“But you don’t want to put in the research to figure it out?” They continued. He balked, Micah rested their chin on their palm, foot bouncing, waiting for him to respond. 

“And you so often put your intellectual aptitude before your love of violence?” He prodded. Micah huffed a sigh so strong Max felt it move his hair. Their eyes had drifted to the various things in his room. 

“You’re just trying to hurt me,” Micah said, “because you’re deflecting. So, please, insult my intelligence, Vicar. I really don’t mind. I’ve been called worse for less.” 

_Ouch._

“I… I apologize, Captain. I didn’t think-“ 

“Just call me Micah right now and we’ll be cool, okay?” They asked, still looking around his room. They were mumbling now, shoulders slumped. 

“Okay, Micah. I’m sorry. I just… am so intrigued by the contents of these notes, I implore you to give me some sort of insight on them. You obviously can read them.” He said, feeling that nagging sense of guilt that came with his bastard accusations, and the fact that Micah usually made him acknowledge them. 

“When I say it won’t interest you, I mean it. I think Ellie would like them more than you, but that’s saying something,” they scoffed. “I said it was for my thesis, but it was only one part. Solaris was just one example, of… hundreds?” 

“Examples for _what_ , though, Micah?” He asked. Micah sighed again, and pulled the sticky note from inside their pants pocket. 

“This just says that the manifestation of our own traumas in our actions and works can be subtle, but collective over humanity.” They said, “see, my thesis was about Humanity as a unified whole within the world of media creation. Storytelling, independent of influence, exists. Art exists without an inherent need. We used our voices to warn our children about freezing to death by saying there are monsters outside. These stories predate even paper, or computers, or everything you’ll never get to learn about. But a lot of the time all these things are really similar, you know? People grieve and process and celebrate all differently, but isn’t it cool that most of the time there’s this massive overlap in it all? Like, obviously this is just an overview. I don’t even know if I have my thesis here, yeah? As far as I know it’s a story from the past too.” 

Max could feel the melancholy in their voice. 

“Can we-can we talk about you for a moment?” 

“Sure,” Micah nodded, and Max looked at the sticky note on the table between them. 

“I really am sorry for what I said about you loving violence. Even if you don’t forgive me, or believe me-“ 

“I do love violence, though,” Micah said, “I guess your perception of me is right and wrong.” 

“That’s, simply, what I’m trying to correct now,” he said, “I’m not sorry for questioning you. I still want to know more. If you do have that thesis, or if you find any remnant of it, please. For me, as a companion, I ask that you consider sharing it.” 

Micah heard out his genuine plea, closing their eyes for a solid minute before saying okay. Only if they could find it. 

“You’re still a dick, Vic,” they said, “but if you want to slog through my fancy homework, I’ll make you a copy.” 

“You’re too kind,” he snorted, but Micah gave him a cheeky smirk that made his revulsion fade away. They had a face like a tiger, absolutely striking to see in motion. Any discomfort Micah’s existence made him feel was always put at ease by the truth. 

The truth that Micah was probably a decent human being. 

“You keep reading, you don’t know shit yet. Plus, I’m pretty sure if I packed my Thesis, it wouldn’t have been in my absolute essentials. If you want to know why I sounded so sad, it’s just that I didn’t end up pursuing it in my career afterwards, so I’ve always kinda regretted it. Now it feels too late.” 

“The sand within the hourglass grows thin, yet someone has flipped it right as the last grain was falling.” Max said, Micah nodded. 

“For every feather that falls from the bird, a new one replaces its shed ancestor.” They said back. 

“A bird may wear many coats during its lifetime,” Max continued. 

“But does the bird remain unchanged?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys all so much for your kudos and comments öwö they really keep me motivated and going!! I know every fic writer asks for comments at some point, but I really do implore you: if you enjoy my writing just let me know!! Comments feed me lol.
> 
> This fic is slow going mainly because I’m also a convention artist and most (all) of my spring shows were canceled due to COVID-19, and I also write my own original novels, but there’s so much already written for this fic it’s just a matter of joining chapters together heehee!! 
> 
> I’m glad y’all are enjoying Micah because they occupy 90% of my brain‘s capacity at any given moment. A lot of this fic is actually a huge roast of myself so like... enjoy finding out what boring Polish/Russian fiction novels I love and what types of food I like eating and making !!


	5. Momentz

Micah arranged the tiny sets repeatedly, trying to find the nicest balance of color, or maybe scents. Waiting patiently for Felix to arrive. Admittedly, they were a little buzzed. Their conversation with Max had gone well, if not a touch rough. He’d thrown words around, Micah retaliated in their own verbal blight. 

Felix knocked on the wall as he entered the room, glancing between Micah and the toiletries. They seemed to perk up as soon as he stepped into view.

“Ayy,” they greeted, sweeping their hand out to invite him in closer. They rested a casual arm around his shoulders, pointing loosely as they went to the desk. 

“There’s so much,” he laughed, and they joined in with him. 

“I love to stay clean! It’s important to take care of every part of your body! Mind, body, stomach, skin, soul. I try to keep everything harmonious,” Micah explained cheerily. 

“Law, speaking of stomachs. Dinner was great, Boss!” Felix said, “I can’t wait for whatever you’ve got next.”

“Tamales,” Micah said, “I’m making tamales next. With real corn, again. It’s not soup for a change. But we’re here to smell soap, not talk about a menu!” 

They both went through all the scents. Felix passed by on most of the fruit and floral smells. Things like clementine or lilac didn’t fit his idea of _Millstone_. It was a set of steely gray and red packaging that he picked called Marble, but that didn’t tell him what it smelled like. 

“Oh, the pomegranate one?” Micah asked, taking the shampoo and smelling it. “It’s Pomegranate, White jasmine, and cedar-or pine? I can’t really tell the fuckin’ difference here. It smells nice.” 

They returned the bottle to the set, and Felix didn’t even have to ask before Micah began explaining all the different items. 

Shampoo to wash his hair, conditioner to use after shampoo to make his hair soft, a body scrub, body wash, face wash, aftershave, deodorant, and both face and body lotion. There was even a red plastic… ball-thing that Micah called a Poof for him to use instead of a wash cloth. 

They told him how much to use, how to use it, how long to let the stuff sit. They even pulled out a coin stamped with a shield as an example. Felix tried his best to memorize what they were telling him. 

“All the bottles have directions that’ll say the same things as me,” they assured. 

“So this is seriously what you do every day?” He asked, feeling like there were so many steps. This was like an ordeal, or a gauntlet, or worse. A To-Do list. 

“What? No. My routine is at least twice as long, usually,” they said. “But I just got all my stuff back. Normally, I use masks for my hair and face, I have toner, serum, moisturizers and coconut oil, I style my hair and use oil on it. Special lotion for my hands and feet, and sore joints or muscles, scar cream for some of the nastier ones. I could go on but I think you get the picture.” 

He didn’t. He was confused by the need for scar cream, Felix’s understanding of Micah’s skin ended at the elbows, and even those he’d only seen twice. But it was still baffling just how much effort they put into themselves. 

“Isn’t that kinda vain?” He asked. 

“There’s nothing vain about it. I’m doing it for the health and well-being of my body, and the peace of mind knowing I’m clean, and look the way I want,” Micah said. “Nothing is meaningless if you prescribe personal meaning to it. The epidermis is the largest organ in the body. Just taking care of it.”

Felix was still trying to wrap his head around all the things they listed off, and how they were _omitting_ details. What more could they possibly do? What was left after all that? 

“I’m gonna take us to Monarch soon,” Micah said, taking a seat on their bed. They’d effectively slingshot him into a brand new curiosity. Felix cocked his head, wondering why they’d be heading back there at the time being. Micah was still trying to figure out how to tackle getting the Iconoclasts and Stellar Bay off of the radio… Had they made a decision? 

“I’m stopping in to see Hiram,” they continued, “I need to ask him for some information.” 

“You think he’ll give it to you?” Felix wondered. 

“I’m going to pay him,” they said, “it’s not easy to get, so I’m prepared to pay for it.” 

“What is it?” He asked. Micah scratched their jaw, rolling their shoulders. 

“Don’t know if I can say. It’s kinda personal,” they said. 

“Personal? What, you forget something?” Felix joked, but Micah made a queasy noise in the back of their throat. It seemed involuntary. They covered it with a cough, and a chuckle. 

“No, no, nothing like that. Just… want to see if I can get some records,” they shrugged, “if I’m lucky, they’ll have turned over to public or private domains that can be accessed. The Library of Congress or something.” 

“Uh, Boss?” Felix said. 

“Hm?”

“I don’t really know what that is, but… it sounds awful important. Is there… a reason they’d be _there_?” He asked. 

“What? No. L-O-C records everything, even dumbass internet shit,” they said, “if they’re anywhere, they’re probably there. Especially after the Schism with the Board.” 

_What?_

Micah didn’t wait for him to catch up, though. They shut down the conversation by hopping back up to their feet. 

“Tossball is on,” they said, “the second half! It’ll be on soon! Soon! Go shower and let’s watch!” 

Felix went off to shower, and Micah piled snacks and drinks on the table for them before setting up the Aetherwave Viewer. It was just a weird TV to Micah, since Aetherwave was only just becoming popular a few years before they left Earth. 

There was this primitive urge in them to channel surf, even though they knew nothing was on. Literally. There were maybe four channels in Halcyon. Board News, Serials, Tossball, and sometimes they’d play weird shit on the dead channel late at night. Nature documentaries, political documentaries, documentaries about Earth. All loaded with a bunch of horse shit. Fear Mongering, lying, chaos. All seeded in everything they watched. Pro-Board Bullshit. 

“I need to set up my projector,” they mumbled, rubbing their forehead with their thumb and middle finger. “I want to watch Tremors…” 

They were startled by a loud banging sound from the bathroom, but recognized exactly what it was a second later. 

Felix bit back a pained yelp when he dropped the shampoo bottle onto his foot. He swiped it up from the shower floor, rubbing the red spot forming on his skin as he let out a disgruntled sigh. 

How did Micah hold onto any of this stuff once it got wet? The plastic slipped right out of his hands! Still, the hot water eased the throbbing in his foot quickly, and he brought the bottle back up. He popped open the cap and squeezed a similar size to that coin onto his palm. The mixture was almost entirely transparent, tinted red with streaks of gold shimmer through it. 

Felix worked it into a pink lather, and through his hair. He wouldn’t admit to himself that he was going slower than usual on purpose. This was the first time he’d ever taken a shower with more than one product, and two steps. He wanted to… savor it. 

The foam from the shampoo was softer and smelled sweeter than anything he’d used before. When he rinsed it out, he was almost sad it had to go down the drain. Felix Watched the bubbles pop, and dilute as they swirled down the mesh drain. 

“ _What a waste_ ,” he thought, feeling a strange sense of guilty remorse. There were so many more steps to get through, though. The silken conditioner, the gritty scrub, the cooling washes and lotions. Felix didn’t remember the last time he touched his own skin this much. He’d changed. Even more than usual. His shoulders were broader, his jaw was sharper. The lines near his ribs had begun to fade into a lighter peachy brown. 

He toweled himself off, wiping the steam from the mirror. He blinked in surprise at his own face. His hair was shiny, his skin was sparkling. 

“What the _fuuuuuck_ ,” he whispered. He pawed at his cheeks, pulling the skin under his eye down. Scratching his beard, he turned his head from side to side. Felix ran a comb through his hair, setting it back before it dried. 

“So, this really is how they do it,” he murmured. “Maybe they’re onto something.” 

Felix got into his pajamas. Micah had gifted everyone a set, but he only wore the pants. The shirt was too soft for him. He rubbed his face with his hands again, pinching his nose and puffing out his cheeks as he tilted his head back and forth. He was transfixed, like a ptereory in a puddle. 

He’d never felt heavily perfumed, not like Micah was, especially in the past few days. But he was aware of the scent wafting out around him when he met Micah in the kitchen. They sniffed twice, nodding silently in approval. 

“You look fresh as a spring daisy,” they said, “man! Now you got me wishin’ I’d changed into my jammies too.” 

“You look plenty comfy, Boss,” he remarked, settling in beside them at the table. 

“Yeah, but I could have saved changing again before bed,” Micah sighed, “anyway. Second half is about to start, they’re just rolling another dozen ads or so. God, it’s so annoying, I remember waiting through the ad breaks on Earth wondering why the fuck they’d always take so long. Like, can’t we just get back to the game?” 

They chuckled lightly, and Felix agreed with their sentiments. They seemed less reserved, less _casual_ , or maybe it was just the softer silhouette of their clothing, but Felix decided to ask a question anyway. 

“Who was your favorite player on Earth?” He blurted out. 

“Cujo, Rizzo’s Rangers original Third Back. Vice Captain,” they said, “he’s dead now, though. Why does it matter.”

“Cause you should think about them, and remember them!” Felix said, “Cujo was a great player! Was he really your favorite?” 

“I mean, why would I lie?” They asked. Felix didn’t falter, he wasn’t even phased by the sudden question back. 

“Only ‘cause there were so many great players on the Rangers and on Earth in general. I thought maybe he was just the first to come to mind,” he shrugged. 

“Isn’t that what determines a favorite thing? The thing your brain automatically completes? Favorite food, favorite drink, favorite Tossball Player. What comes to mind for you?” They asked. 

“Pie, Zero Gee, The Red Scare.” 

“I meant in Halcyon,” they grunted. 

“Boss, you’ve seen the poster in my room a million times,” he said. They sighed, and nodded, surrendering to his superior charming skills. 

“Too busy looking at you when I’m in there to notice the poster,” they joked, “my undivided attention always belongs to you.” 

Felix scoffed, nudging them with his elbow. 

“Gee, Boss, you sure can flatter a guy,” he said, “you liked the Rangers a lot, huh. I always felt like it was such a mixed bag, uh, you know, learning about them. But the Board wiped out basically all of Earth’s Tossball roots. It’s ancient history to almost everybody. Not that anybody remembers.”

Two beats of silence. 

“You know. Besides you.” 

“It’s cool that I can still talk scores with somebody about it,” Micah sighed, “if only you could have, you know, seen it?” 

“Don’t get me started,” he snorted, rolling his eyes, “the Board probably has the only footage, if it even still exists. They probably torched it! Can’t appreciate a good game.” 

Micah bit back a giggle, and the ad break came to a slow end. Easing in on a wide shot of the field, Micah leaned forward in their chair. Their leg bounced as they went totally quiet, completely devoted to the flickering screen. 

Felix glanced back at them from the screen, noticing the small movement as Micah’s hand traced lines on the table. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize they were predicting the player movements. 

“This is the oldest play in the book,” they muttered, “they don’t stand a chance against the sixth back’s defense.” 

“Really?” 

“Just watch,” Micah nodded. Sure enough, within seconds one of the Ranger’s Hackers was swept off their feet, legs broken by the 6th back. Felix let out an involuntary groan. 

“Fuck, really? How did you know?” 

“Hacker versus 6th Back? There’s no contest.” They shrugged. “I expected you to know that.” 

“I mean, I do, but usually not until afterwards,” he said. Micah cracked open two beers, sliding one to him without peeling their eyes from the screen. The mindless snacking commenced, sports chatter and ads rolling. The night grew long, and the game was coming to a close. 

“Rangers will win,” Micah said, swallowing a mouthful of cheesy chips. “They’ll go Sixth to Tenth, Hacker to Eighth, Tossball to sink 32. If they do it right, it’ll be a head goal.” 

Once again, Micah’s reading was accurate. The Rangers scraped by with one point over a tie, buzzer blaring in a confetti filled blood shower. They swirled the remainder of their beer and held it out for Felix to clink. He touched the bottles together, and Micah finished their drink. They gathered the trash and empty bottles, disposing of them before putting the rest of the snacks back. 

Felix stayed at the table, watching them move in the cabinets, then go to put away the Aetherwave viewer. They seemed surprised that he hadn’t moved, or gone to bed. 

“What do you want to do?” They asked, “you’re not sleepy?”

They came and sat down beside them, their elbows bumped when Micah brought them onto the table. 

“Not really,” he cleaned his throat, wondering if it was his close proximity to Micah that was making him so warm. He wanted to reach out and touch the scar on their face, that stretched without resistance… but it also seemed so restraining. 

What happened to cause that? Was it too much to ask? 

“What do you need the scar cream for?” He asked. 

“I have some gnarly ones,” they said, “the one on my knee is killer.” 

“Like the one on your…” 

“My face? No, I’m fine with that one,” Micah said, “it gives me some character. Makes me sexy, right?” 

They laughed, and Felix did too, but it was a different cadence. 

“Why you askin’?” Micah said. 

“Dunno, just been on my mind since you mentioned it. You’re always so covered up,” he shrugged. 

“It’s just what I like to wear,” they admitted, “Y’know, you also stay covered up. You wear more layers than I do.” 

“You got me there.” 

“I love the jumpsuit though. With the vest? Ugh, it’s a great look. Super balanced. I remember wearing something like it on Earth before!” They gushed. Maybe they were feeling  
a little more loose tonight. Felix scoffed, tossing out a mouthful of compliments. 

“You really know your plays,” Felix nodded. They shrugged, giving him that same queasy look from earlier. 

“I played with my friends. I had to know,” they said, “maybe we can play a game together once all this is over… but maybe not…” 

“Why not?” He pouted. Micah blinked at him, having not seen anybody pout at them in… ages. 

“Cause you might die?” They snorted, “I get into it.” 

“Fuck, you’d kill _me_ , Boss? That’s harsh!” He sucked in air between his teeth, but it was clear he didn’t believe they actually would. 

“I couldn’t kill you, Felix. You’ve got too much potential,” they nodded. “Do you want to help me prepare tomorrow’s dinner?” 

“Now? It’s so late?” 

“They have to cook for almost two hours. I already did all the prep work earlier while I was making the soup. We just have to wrap them up since I already made the dough!” They grinned. 

Felix didn’t refuse. He couldn’t! He’d feel too selfish leaving them alone in the kitchen to make dinner for the rest of the crew. It was late, and they wouldn’t get any good sleep… 

So, together they sat at the table. Micah showed him how much filling to put in the tamales, and Felix stopped Micah to point at the white blob on the table. 

“It’s cheese. I make it all the time for us. Have you never seen it raw?” They asked. He shook his head, and Micah covered their mouth with their elbow to avoid laughing. They took a knife and carved off a thin slice, handing it to him to eat before shredding the rest of the blob into individual strips. 

They quickly worked out a rhythm. Micah would spread the dough on the husk, and slide them to Felix in batches of five. He would fill them, then pass them back and Micah would fold them. They were so much faster than him it almost hurt his pride, but they muttered praise as they went. He was doing a good job, after all. 

Micah was so used to doing this with another person that they wondered how long it would actually take them to do it alone. They hummed quietly as they folded, spread, and tied the tiny bundles together. They deposited them into the big pot they’d brought over at the start. Felix layered a strip of pepper, shredded cystypig, and cheese into the little boats. How had he not noticed all this other food being made? We’re they just that good at it? 

“You prep a lot of food in advance?” He asked, and Micah hummed a curious note. 

“Depends. A lot of it is fast and easy. Everybody gets hungry! I don’t like to keep them waiting,” they said, smug in an innocent way. 

“But is this special?” He asked. 

“Not so much special as it is labor intensive. It’s a lot of prep time, long cook time, but they’re so delicious,” they sighed, “it’s… fun food, too, if you’ve never had them. Like little presents! It’s not soup, and it’s not all rice.” 

“If anybody is giving you beef, you gotta let it slide off, Boss.” Felix said, “your food is good. They either eat or they don’t, that’s their problem.” 

“I know, I know, but that’s what I’m worried about. People need food to live!” Micah defended, but Felix shot them a long look that made Micah shudder. 

“I’m pretty tired of the same shit over and over too, no matter how nice it tastes… variety is the spice of life! And what’s better than a good meal?” They asked him. 

Honestly, Felix couldn't retort. He flickered through all the possibilities, but nothing compared to the consistent feeling of… not being hungry. 

“I’m real grateful you brought me on board, Boss,” Felix said, engrossing himself back in his work. 

“I want you here,” Micah affirmed. 

“Thanks,” he nodded. 

“You have more to offer than you think, Felix,” they said, also watching their hands as they tied strips of corn husk into tight knots. 

“I think you’re swell, too,” he said. Micah smiled just a little as they finished the last of the tamales. 

“You want a snack or something? Another drink? It’s late, but I’m going to set us on course to Monarch before bed,” they said. Felix helped them clear space in the fridge for the pot, and they pulled out a bottle of juice. He accepted it, and they got one for themselves. 

“Should we keep talking in my room? I don’t want to wake everyone up.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“It isn’t one,” they said, following Felix’s moves as he started down the hallway. Micah didn’t startle when Ellie’s door slid open. She looked tired, and she glanced between the two and the direction they were heading. 

“Ugh,” Ellie muttered, “please don’t fuck.”

Micah was taken aback by the directed command. 

“Huh?” They responded, “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

“Good, then I have nothing to worry about.” 

Ellie brushed past in the direction of the bathroom, and Micah grunted with a disbelieving gesture. 

“Did you hear that? What the hell?” They said over their shoulder, “that’s rude.” 

“She’s just projecting,” Felix joked. It defused Micah, and the two went into Micah’s room. Micah sat at the desk, Felix on the bed, and he looked at the new things littered around the room. Besides the bath sets that had been pushed to one side, Micah had a large collection of products lined up by a mirror. Clothes folded neatly in an open suitcase, and shiny jewelry in pouches. 

“You excited about getting more of your stuff soon?” He asked. Micah twisted the lid off their juice and took a long drink. 

“Yep!” 

“That’s it?” 

“Yep!” 

“I thought maybe there’d be… more?” He poked. His curiosity wasn’t lost upon Micah, and they hummed quietly as they thought. 

“My projector was actually in one of these suitcases. It’s like an old school aetherwave player. Maybe we can watch some movies sometime,” they said. It wasn’t exactly an answer, at least not directly. Felix took a drink, looking around again. There were a few small trophies and medals placed on the windowsill, alongside a framed picture that Felix couldn’t make out from where he was sitting. 

Micah actually started sifting through a box he hadn’t noticed under the desk. They pulled out a Media cart that looked much more familiar. 

“Cool, my aetherwaves made it,” they mumbled, before reading the label. They nodded to themselves before tossing it across the room. It landed effortlessly on the bed, an inch away from Felix. 

“What’s that?” 

“Just some Earth stuff. Like, home videos I think. There might be something interesting on it, you can check it out sometime,” they nodded, “something new for you.” 

He thumbed over the label, it had faded writing in Spanish on it. He had no idea what it meant. It wasn’t Micah’s handwriting, though. 

“Do you… are you really okay with me watching whatever’s on this?” He asked, and Micah chuckled a little. 

“Of course I am! I wouldn’t give it to you if I wasn’t, right? C’mon,” they said, taking a sip of their juice. 

They talked about nothing in particular for a while longer, but it was Micah who quietly asked if they could call it a night to get some sleep. Felix got up immediately, but they made a soothing noise to slow him down. 

“No rush, my man,” they said. 

“Boss, do you think once all this is over-ah… never mind,” he started. 

“Tell me.”

“I will later, once I can say it better,” he said. They nodded, wishing him goodnight. 

He heard Micah go down to the bridge before he even got to his room. Ellie had already returned to hers, and the ship was quiet enough to almost be uncomfortable. A shiver ran down his spine, looking back over that empty, dark stairwell. 

He decided to go to bed. 

In the morning, Micah served breakfast, and then left them to eat. They had a few hours of navigation left, and they knew they’d have to go through clearances to land in Fallbrook. They did every time, even with the amount of work they did with Sublight. It was formality. 

There was nothing any of them could do after they all finished eating. Sitting around in the kitchen waiting to see what, and who, exactly Micah was going to have in store for Monarch. Nyoka seemed passive, having Felix bring her a beer from the fridge despite the early hour. 

“Hair of the dog,” she sighed as he handed it to her. 

“Well, what should we do? The aetherwave is still set up,” Parvati said, “maybe there’s a serial on?” 

“Oh, great,” Nyoka scoffed, “sorry, but the last thing I want to watch is some daytime snoozefest.” 

“Boss gave me this cart, we can see what’s on it,” Felix suggested, pulling the palm sized gadget from his leg pocket. Ellie raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. 

“The Captain gave you that? What even is it?” 

“I don’t know, Ellie,” he scoffed, “that’s why I suggested that we watch it.” 

“He’s got a point,” Nyoka said, twisting the bottle cap off of the beer. 

Felix went to the aetherwave viewer and plugged the chip into the cart slot. He took his seat, and Parvati apologized as she scooted her seat over to make more room for him. Ellie stayed standing, she didn’t know if she wanted to watch whatever was going to play. 

The screen was just solid black, but there was sound. It was gentle. Parvati and Max recognized the sound of wind and ocean waves right away, but it came slower to the rest. The picture changed to pasture full of grazing cows, and panned up to a mountain. Simple text popped up on the screen. 

_**Japan.**_

Even more jarring was when a voice, Micah’s voice, came through crystal clear through the audio. Narrating. Felix leaned forward in his seat, and Max ran his finger down the side of the remote control. 

_Those clear mornings, bright as if the sun herself were kissing the Earth awake. Love radiated in the air, and I loved every breath, every day…_

_The food in Hokkaido was everything I’d never had, and everything I didn’t know I wanted. Cream buns, milk bread, donburi, melon. Every meal was better than the last. Every day I woke up renewed, invigorated, and ready to strike._

The crew was captivated, stuck to their seats as the film rolled. Scenery of lush green fields, rocky ocean cliff sides, and narrow alleyways lines with small restaurants flickered by as Micah spoke. 

“Who made this?” Ellie asked, “it wasn’t the Captain, clearly.” 

“Shh,” Max and Parvati scolded at the same time. 

_There wasn’t much I could do besides eat, work, and balance. Work was short, it was international training, but I was alone. So I honed myself into a sharp edge, and made myself useful._

_I worked night shift at a small noodle shop in the town I was staying in. They made Salt Ramen, and I was hooked. I ate there every night for the first three months, and then I worked there for the last 6 of my stay. I was the only one to moonlight._

_But it was wonderful._

Felix took in the sight of a much younger Micah. Not too much younger, but they were shorter, and they weren’t nearly as built. The scar on their face was present, and that signature tooth was caught on film as the clips rolled on. 

There they were, pounding noodles, butchering pigs, and folding tiny pleats in dough pouches. 

_Soon enough, my birthday came._

_The entire shop closed early. Midnight on the dot. I had no idea what they really thought of me, but this is when I found out._

_“Sumimasen, bosu, naze watashitachi wa tojita nodesu ka?”_ Micah asked, looking directly at the camera. 

The screen paused and all of the crew looked at each other. 

“What the fuck?” Felix whispered, “was that…” 

“Japanese? Yes,” Max muttered, “but there’s subtitles-“ 

“That still doesn’t explain what this is,” Ellie scoffed. 

“Will you all shut your traps! Maybe if we keep watching we can find out,” Nyoka finally spoke, “do you think Micah would be happy finding out we watched this? I don’t believe so.” 

“They are pretty tight lipped. Should we stop?” Parvati suggested, but she was swiftly outvoted. 

“If the Captain gave it to Felix, it must be okay, right?” Max said, turning to Felix. He nodded. 

“Okay, before we keep watching, we’re all in agreement that there’s no more talking?” Nyoka said. The others solemnly agreed, and Max unpaused the vid. 

The subtitles were bright and easy to read, allowing them in on the conversations portrayed between Micah and their coworkers. 

_“We closed because it’s your birthday now! We all wanted to celebrate with you!”_

Micah’s face went from curious to almost sad, they balled up their fist in the stomach of their apron, and nodded. 

The shop was dim, but the four employees sat around a table, all eating a bowl of the noodle soup Micah had mentioned earlier. They chattered, asking Micah about their love life, and they deflected just like they did with the Unreliable crew. It was clear that all this footage was shot by the owner of the Noodle bar, but they didn’t know why. 

_“I’ve got someone special, but she’s busy too.”_

_“You work too hard, senpai!” It was the youngest at the table._

_“Sho, don’t be rude! You’ll have to excuse him, he’s a big fan of yours,” the owner said._

_“It’s okay, it’s okay,” they nodded, finishing off their soup. “I figured as much. Why don’t you all come tomorrow? I’ll let you in.”_

_The shop employees consisted of Taro, a middle aged, divorced father turned Chef. Sho, his son, and Miyo, Taro’s sister. Together, they kept classic Hokkaido food available for everyone. They made everything from scratch, and they were dedicated to independence. I was deeply grateful for every day I spent sweating over Gyoza with them._

Taro got up from the table, vanishing into the back of the shop. Micah discussed the food back in Cuba with Miyo. She asked them about pork recipes, and Micah promised to make her dinner the next night. 

Taro returned with a small cake, a single sparkler in the top. Miyo clapped quietly and Sho began singing happy birthday in a purposefully obnoxious tone. Taro joined in, and set the cake down in front of Micah. They laughed, also clapping, and leaned back as Taro put a big hand on their shoulder. 

_I fell in love with that family. It was nothing like my own, but they were just as warm. I had planned on spending my 20th birthday working hard, and then eating ice cream alone in my apartment. Instead, they threw me a party. They put my picture up on the wall with theirs. News clippings got framed and looped by the tables. They were openly proud of me, if not unaware it could have been disastrous for all of us._

The screen faded, but it wasn’t the end of the vid. The darkness was slowly pierced by a deep red sun, rising over the horizon. 

_Strike while the iron is hot was never something that applied to me. Strike or be Struck was more helpful. I stayed out of the eyes of the public as much as I could, but I’ve never been able to blend into a crowd._

The camera settled between their shoulders. They were running on one of the mountain trails, fog swirling around them like a cloak. 

The vid continued, detailing more food, more scenery, and more information with every conversation had. They sat together for a little over an hour before the cart ended. 

Quiet clapping rang out from behind them. 

“Did you guys like it?” 

A chill went through the room as Micah’s voice broke the silence. This time, it was… real. Like corpses, they slowly turned to where their Captain was standing, staring with hollowed eyes. 

“I’m sad I missed it, I’m not selfish enough to make a documentary about myself, but my friend was into that stuff.” They explained, “my trip to Japan was their favorite one. One of the first they made! I bought a drone to shoot the footage with and everything.” 

“Are you mad we watched it?” Nyoka asked plainly. Micah scoffed and shook their head. 

“God no! I just said I was sad I missed it.” They said, and everybody relaxed. 

“What were you doing in Japan? You never told us you were fluent in Japanese.” Max said. 

“Hai, mā, sore wa kesshite kimasendeshita ne?” They grinned, eyes crinkling. “I speak Spanish, English, Japanese, Mandarin, Polish, Latin, Italian, and like three more. I learned most as a kid!” 

“Isn’t Mandarin a fruit?” Felix asked. Micah nodded. 

“Also a Chinese dialect,” they said. 

“Well, don’t let anybody overhear you,” Ellie warned, “they might get the wrong idea.”

“Sure, sure,” Micah nodded, but the corner of their mouth twitched just a little. There was something off about their disposition, shifting their weight from one hip to the other. The entire balance of their body seemed to be resting on a single thread, like a tightrope. But their foot was firmly in place on the ground, there was no wavering. 

“You okay, Boss?” Felix asked, drawing a quick look from both Parvati and Max. He didn’t notice. 

“What? I’m fine,” they said, shaking their head with a quick blink. They opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of juice, and then they paced over to the ladder. They slid down to the cargo bay with a thump, and Nyoka sighed. 

“They’re probably pissed at us.” She observed. 

“I believe you’re right,” Max groaned. 

“They’re not mad,” Felix warned, “they just don’t know what to say.” 

“You’re sure?” Ellie said, but it was clear she didn’t believe him. 

“I’m certain,” he said, “I mean, what could they say? We just watched a vid on them, and then questioned them about it. Wouldn’t you be at a loss for words?” 

“Very well put, Felix,” Max said. Felix nodded, but didn’t take his attention away from Ellie. She cleared her throat, shaking her head just a bit. 

“I’m right, and you know it.” He said. 

“We can continue this later, Millstone,” she said, “I don’t much like being interrogated in front of the rest of the crew.” 

Nyoka got up from her seat, going to Ellie and patting her shoulder. 

“C’mon, girl, calm down. Nobody’s keeping score here,” she said, “I’ll buy you a drink when we get to Monarch, okay?” 

“I’ll buy my own,” Ellie said, “but I’ll tag along.” 

Nyoka nodded at her and headed down to the cargo bay. The faint metalic noise of Micah at the workbench brought her there. 

“Yo, Cap! Can you do me a favor?” She asked, leaning up against the workbench. Micah had one of their jackets, inside out, lined with dozens of tiny shards. 

“Sure, what is it?” Micah asked, holding a tiny needle. 

“Can you look at my gun? I’ve cleaned her twice but something still feels off,” Nyoka said, “I know you hate them, but I need a second opinion. I can’t have this thing blowing up in my face.” 

“You’re smart to ask,” they agreed, “let me finish lining this then I’ll do it.” 

“What is that?” She asked. 

“Kevlar, extra thin. I ripped it out of a chest piece for mine,” they said, “I’m trying to be more careful.” 

“You? Careful?”

“With bullets,” they said, “there isn’t much second guessing, if you get hit wrong, phooey. You’re dead! How funny is that?” 

They did laugh. Nyoka didn’t. 

“See, you think about it, bullets are the worst. Or maybe it’s the people loading them into guns after all. Knives? Tossball sticks? Your fists? Honest weapons. No offense, Nyoka,” they continued. 

“None taken,” she said. 

“Yeah, I don’t know where I’m going with this,” they chuckled, “just thinking out loud. You know that _pop!_ that you hear when someone gets shot in the head?” 

“I do.” 

“Fucked up if true, right?” They said, continuing to laugh just under their breath. 

“Cap, no… Micah, are you sure you’re okay? Felix said we didn’t have to worry but-“ 

“When we go out on Monarch you’re coming with me to see Hiram,” Micah finally relinquished, “just us. Don’t tell anybody else, okay? It’s like, a routine trip with a brief pit stop. It can stay between us.” 

“Wow, Hiram? What, you got a thing for Rapunzel over there?” Nyoka laughed. 

“No.” 

Micah didn’t let onto anything further. That joke wasn’t received as well as Nyoka had hoped. There really _was_ something wrong, even if Micah didn’t want to admit it. 

“Look, Micah, I don’t like sticking my nose in other people’s private life, but if you ever need to talk. You know I’m here for you right?” She said, tone shifting. “You’ve listened to me whine and bitch and moan, if something’s on your mind…” 

“I appreciate the offer, Nyoka. I just don’t know what to say,” Micah sighed, their shoulders slumped and their knees bent. They sank down, visually becoming a bit smaller. Still, they towered over Nyoka. 

“Well… I know you don’t drink alone. I’ll bring my flask when we go out, maybe a scenic walk by the sulfur pits will clear your mind,” she said, “let me know when you’ve got a chance to look at my gun. If we’re heading out today I’d appreciate it.” 

“Sure thing. Thanks, Nyoka,” Micah said. Nyoka left her gun sitting by Micah, who resumed the tedious lining of the sweatshirt. She took one last look back at the ladder, wondering where all the bullet talk had come from. Maybe it was her bringing up the gun, but it felt like that was a scab they were scratching. She shrugged it off and climbed up to the kitchen. Max was reading at the table, but everyone else had vacated. 

SAM’s footsteps from the bridge to the cargo bay were loud enough to rouse both. He walked right up to Micah, holding out his washer arm. 

“Got a jam? Help SAM unstick your stuck on grime!” He chimed. Micah smiles a little at him, and offered their hand to him. 

“Let me see what’s got you,” they nodded. 

Nyoka came by later to get her gun, the ship settled and docked in Fallbrook. Parvati was already outside, observing the hull for defects or damage. Nyoka was changed into her regular gear, knives and ropes and the hint of her flask peeking out. 

“You fix her up?” Nyoka asked, Micah handing them the gun sheepishly. They nodded. 

“Little clog in the plasma tubes wayyyyy up high. Wouldn’t spot it with normal cleaning. I took it apart and put it back together good as new. Might have a bit more kick, should have a higher output. Replaced your steady mod with a new one,” they explained, “you know, usual maintenance and care.” 

“You didn’t need to do all that, Cap,” she chuckled, “but I appreciate it. I know you don’t like the damn things.” 

“I don’t mind yours or Max’s,” they said, “I know you’re in control of it.” 

“I feel like I haven’t had a ‘gun safety’ talk since… well… ever,” she smirked, “holdovers from Earth?” 

“They’re dangerous weapons!” Micah said, “I’m just glad I can help you take care of them.”

“How do you know so much?” She asked. 

“Oh, you know,” they smiled, “doesn’t everybody?” 

“Shit, guess you’re right.”

“Well, I’m ready if you are,” they said, shrugging their sweatshirt over their head. It was dark purple, with black artwork of a giant, snarling dog. Nyoka almost wanted to ask if she could borrow it sometime. All of their clothes looked so versatile. 

Micah grabbed the belt bag they normally wore, equipped lightly with only a Tossball blocker and Vortex mace strapped to their other hip. 

“You’re packed scarce,” Nyoka noted in the airlock, popping her ears as ADA pressurized them for Monarch. Micah raised an eyebrow but didn’t turn their head. 

“You worried about it?” 

“Kinda.” 

It was blunt, and Micah nodded again. 

“I’m not,” they said, “ADA you done?” 

“Yes, Captain. Return safely,” she said, and the two released the door. The early afternoon sunlight cut into dapples by the giant plants, and sheer cliffs. Micah took point, stretching their arms over their head. They breathed in the deep, rancid air, and exhaled with a massive woosh. 

“Hey! Wait!” 

Micah turned on a dime, leaning back on their right leg. Nyoka had turned too, watching Felix jog down the ramp after them. 

“Hey!” Micah waved, “we’re heading out!” 

“Why didn’t you let me know,” Felix puffed, “I heard the airlock and I thought it was Parvati, but then ADA said you two left.” 

Micah stepped around Nyoka and back toward the ship while Felix caught his breath. He straightened up, taking one last massive breath. 

“I was just confused is all. See, if you called for me I didn’t hear you-“

“What? I want you to stay here,” Micah said. 

Felix sank back, hand curling reflexively against his chest. He was confused, and a little hurt by the outright refusal. They’d never left him behind before, not when he offered to come. Sometimes he waited outside, but…

“Felix, calm down,” Nyoka snorted, rolling her eyes. “We’re going to see Hiram. Remember how bored you were last time?” 

“Yeah, but-“ he looked between Micah and Nyoka. He was defeated. He felt defeated. It was like a polar shift, throwing him off axis. 

Micah’s big hand slapped down on his shoulder, he looked up. They eclipsed the sun with their head, but their face was sympathetic. Earnest. 

“I’m sorry,” they said quietly, “I need you here, okay? Just for a little while. I promise I won’t get into any trouble without you.”

“Do you really promise?” He sighed. 

“Cross my heart,” they traced an X over their chest, and he sighed again. He was slumped, obviously eager to have followed them out. The wind was knocked out of his sails. 

“Hold down the fort, Felix. See you soon!” Micah leaned down and bumped their forehead against the crown of his with no force. Then they were up, and back to Nyoka’s side. 

They parted ways. 

“He looked real bummed,” Nyoka said, “have you…”

“What?” Micah asked.

“Have you gone out without him before?” Nyoka asked, and Micah shook their head. 

“After I got here, I picked up Parvati, went to the Groundbreaker and got Felix, and then I had a mental breakdown at Phineas’ lab for a month before I went back for Max,” they explained, “just kind of, pcheow, lost it for a minute, you know?” 

They’d done an explosive gesture by their head when they made the absurd sound. Nyoka nodded, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet as they paused. 

“I know,” she confirmed, “I don’t blame you. But you seem to be holding it together.” 

“Haha, yeah,” Micah said. “I do feel bad about leaving Felix behind.”

“Aw, you miss your little boy toy already?” Nyoka teased. Micah could only shrug. 

“He’s a good fighter, and fun company. You like him as much as I do,” they said. Nyoka scoffed affectionately. 

“Sorry, Cap. I don’t think anybody likes Felix as much as you.” 

Nyoka and Micah both laughed, but Micah made that distinct hum afterwards that signaled a deep thought. They passed out of Fallbrook in silence, the path opening up wide, exposing them to the direct sunlight. 

“Even if that’s true, I wish it weren’t,” they said, tilting their head back to look at the sky. They missed the radiant blue hue the ozone layer caused on earth. 

“Yeah, really?” Nyoka said. 

“Mhm. He’s great! I feel like everyone kinda glosses over him, or just doesn’t give him the time of day,” Micah said sadly, “maybe we just suit each other, but is it really so hard to stop, see, and listen?” 

“Somehow I get the feeling you mean something deeper,” Nyoka offered Micah her flask, and Micah took a reluctant sip. They split off the road they were walking on, up to the beaten trail. 

“I do,” they handed back the flask, “you know, to be truly _seen_ in the universe is so… special. Behind the layers of pretense, you’re somebody. I’m somebody. Felix, Max, Ellie. Even SAM and ADA are somebodies, at least to me. When you really look, and try to see somebody… they unfurl like a flower, casting those petals open to display a beautiful form.” 

Once again, with their hands they mimed for Nyoka the bloom. She listened. When Max droned on like this, it was easy to tune out. But Micah was bewitching in their movement. Their words had potency, and meaning. Each shift of their weight, rotation of their wrist, curl of their head as they chattered. 

“Nyoka, I know you’re beautiful already. I’m still looking, still listening, waiting for you to blossom open at your own pace. Felix exists in a perpetual full bloom. Completely unreserved, bold, perceptive,” they went on, lost in their own thoughts by now, “he’s on display. He’s honest. To the marrow in his bones he’s _honest_. I strive to be more like him, I admire him, as I admire all of you in your own ways.” 

The conversation ended abruptly as Micah stopped for a split second, and then tore off at a headlong sprint. They’d made it pretty far already, but Nyoka wasn’t prepared mentally for the Mantisaur Queen’s bulbous head to suddenly be ten feet away, nor did she expect to see Micah launching themselves at it at top speeds. 

The bug shook and swatted at Micah, who had already pulled the Tossball blocker from their belt loop. They impacted the Queen’s head, and it threw Micah off, skittering away and up a set of boulders. 

Micah pursued. Up onto the boulders, up close to the softer underbelly of the beast. They shoved their blocker deep into the stomach of the queen, and let out a laugh when they were swiped by a powerful foreleg. 

Nyoka let out a holler as Micah grabbed, and pried the pincer off of the Mantiqueen. They gave her a thumbs up in return, tooth flashing in the sun as they cast a brilliant smile her way. The Mantiqueen toppled, heavy exoskeleton cracking as they tore the blocker from the corpse. Micah carefully lowered themselves down the small rock. 

“That was fun!” They said, reuniting with Nyoka on the ground. 

“If only you’d been on Monarch when I was a kid,” she sighed, knocking her knuckles against Micah’s outstretched fist. Micah sighed too. 

“We probably would have gotten along,” they nodded, “you’re cool.” 

Nyoka smiled, her eyes crinkled at the corners, and Micah loved it. They motioned for Nyoka to walk with them, and they continued up Devil’s Peak. 

“Oh, when we get up there, I’m going in alone. Hope you understand,” Micah warned, “private business. My ears only.” 

“Got it, Cap,” she said, “Hiram gets antsy with lots of visitors anyhow. Stick up his ass, if you ask me.” 

“We all like our space,” they sighed. 

The trail up wasn’t that dangerous, but Nyoka let Micah handle most of it. They were laughing, jumping, and wrestling the bugs they encountered. They managed to stay remarkably clean, dusting off the bits of dirt and foliage from that intense purple shirt. 

“Hiram doesn’t like dirt,” Micah said, and Nyoka gave them a knowing look. 

“We’re almost there anyway. You good waiting outside? I pulled that on you pretty quick bu-“ 

“It’s fine, Cap. You’ve got shit to talk about with him, I get it,” Nyoka brushed off, “not like I don’t know my way around.” 

“Thanks, Nyoka,” they said, and they started up the narrow path to the top of the mountain. 

Micah let themselves into Hiram’s base, the door sliding open and shut neatly. They heard Hiram scrabbling around, and then he appeared in the doorway. His hair was mused, shirt wrinkled at the waist. He’d probably been hunched over a terminal just moments prior. His expression morphed from aggressive curiosity to apprehensive confusion. 

“Oh! Micah! To what do I owe this… pleasure?” Hiram asked, frowning as they moved silently into his space. They sat down at one of the tables, gesturing for him to do the same. 

“I need information, and only I can help you get it,” they said. His interest was piqued, and he came to sit across from them. They pulled out a thin scrap of paper covered in lines of jumbled codes, cyphers, and passwords. 

“Before I give you this code, we need to have a briefing,” Micah said, “I need to explain some things, and I’m actually trusting you to keep them to yourself. Actually, I’m going to pay you to.” 

“Bits buy my silence. If there’s enough.” He said. 

“There will be, trust me,” they rolled their eyes back. Hiram cleared his throat and asked them to continue. 

“Okay, so. I’m looking for files. My files. Job files. And I’m looking for the files of about 24 people, all logged in the same place,” they explained. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but it’s there. I know you’re not interested in getting to know me, but I do have to tell you more _about_ me.” 

Micah let loose a deluge of information. More than even Hiram could process. Names, years, estates, titles. It all blurred together into a mush of nonsense that solidified into a diamond as shiny as the one in Micah’s mouth when they told him their last name. Like the bang of a gong in his eardrums, the rush of blood to his brain finally let him form words. 

“Hold on a fucking second. That’s _you_?” He asked, physically recoiling in what looked like disgust. Micah could only frown, and nod. 

“I’m assuming there’s mentions of me out here then?” They asked. 

“Old, _old_ mentions,” Hiram composed himself, returning to his neutral stance. Sweat was rolling down the back of his neck. Micah could smell it. Hiram was at best nervous, at worst, downright afraid. 

“Really?” 

Hiram stared at their unchanging face. It was so strange, despite looking at that face so many times, he could never center their features. They were like a chameleon, or water. Changing shape, and form, and yet they never looked any different. He let out the breath he was holding in a massive, defeated sigh. 

“Look, I’ll take it on. Only because you gave me business in the past-before I even knew you. Plus, if the money is as good as you say-“ 

“Money isn’t worth shit. But it is good. See for yourself,” they slid a singular black cart across the table. He took it, running his thumb along the pristine plastic. It looked like it had only been used once. 

“My last paycheck,” they scoffed, and Hiram took his cue to align the cart with his portable slot. The cart was genuine, as were the Bits, and the number made him feel nauseous with butterflies. 

“Give me the code,” he said flatly, holding out his hand for the scrap of paper. Micah handed him the multiple encryption cypher and string of codes. He tucked it into his pocket, and Micah offered their hand to shake. 

“Deal?” They asked. He grimaced at their hand. 

“How barbaric,” he groaned, before inevitably accepting, “deal.” 

“Drop me a line if you can, or send a message to my place in Fallbrook,” Micah was already heading toward the door, and Hiram had to call out to stop them. 

“Why are you here?” He asked. Micah frowned again. 

“I came to see you,” they shrugged. They exited before he could tell them that’s not what he _meant_. But Micah knew that’s not what he meant. Hiram had looked utterly sickened by their presence, and their shoulders slumped a little. 

What kind of dirt about them was being spread around Halcyon if he’d reacted like that?

Micah leaned over the rail and hollered to Nyoka that they were done. She was sitting on an empty storage unit, flask by her side. She took one last swig and hopped off to meet the blurry streak skidding to a halt in front of them. 

“C’mon, let’s see if we can make it back before nightfall. I want to clear out,” Micah said, 

“Woah, woah, woah, we just got here?” Nyoka said, “we’re leaving already?” 

“I don’t wanna stick around too long. I’m still trying to wrap my head around how to settle things here, I don’t want to get caught up before we know what we want to do,” Micah shrugged. They kicked a loose pebble casually, and Nyoka watched it jettison off, shearing a thin slab of rock off the nearby cliff side. 

“Gotcha. Also, remind me not to play kickball with you,” she whistled. “We hunting on the way back?” 

“If we stumble across anything, sure. I mostly just brought you because I love your company, and your directions,” Micah smiled sweetly. Nyoka’s hand rested on her chest absently, touched by the sentiment. She didn’t have a chance to express it, but Micah had told her that she was part of a new family with them. And lately, she was more inclined to believe it. 

“Can I tell you the truth?” Micah said as they strolled down the mountain. The path was still clear from Micah’s swift dispatch earlier. 

“Sure, Cap,” Nyoka said. 

“You know you can call me Micah,” they said, “anyway… I want to go to Scylla and shred some Primal Ass.” 

“So why stop here at all?” Nyoka scoffed, “or first?”

“To get it out of the way, plus it’s close by. Believe it or not I have some things I want to check up on from my time,” Micah said, kicking another rock. Lighter, this time, but it still made a massive dust cloud when it hit the ground. 

“Like what?”

“My roommate,” Micah said. Nyoka stumbled a step and cleared her throat as she regained her footing. 

“You lived with somebody?” 

“What? Of course I did! You think I could have handled myself all on my lonesome?” Micah laughed, “they were always oversleeping. Right up until the end!” 

“The end, huh?” Nyoka said, and Micah quickly shut up. They looked sick, frowning and kicking another stone with tectonic force. Their aim was impeccable. Nyoka found herself wondering why they never picked up a gun around her. Why did they hate them so much?

“That’s a story for another time, yeah?” They offered, and Nyoka nodded. Clearly there’d been some boundary crossed. The rest of the walk was silent. 

Nyoka bagged a Rapt, and together they dressed it. Micah described how they were going to prepare the different cuts of meat, giving Nyoka insight into what the future menu might look like back on the Unreliable. 

“So, do you mind if I ask what’s up with all the cooking? You working in that noodle shop wasn’t your first job,” she said, Micah chuckled, giving them another thumbs up. 

“It wasn’t. I just loved the food they made so much, I wanted to learn,” Micah said. 

“The kid was a fan of yours? Felix told me you’d be on screen sometimes.” 

“I wasn’t that well known. Sho recognizing me was just a coincidence,” they said, “it was honestly not that important.” 

“Your whole life seems to be not very important, Micah,” Nyoka said. They were getting close to Fallbrook. She wanted to see if Micah would talk a little more before they got back. 

“It’s history, you know? I was born almost a hundred years ago. Nobody in Halcyon cares about some ancient Earth person who was on TV sometimes,” Micah snorted, “I’m no Halcyon Helen. I think it’s fine.” 

“No offense, but that’s some bullshit,” Nyoka scoffed, “but I won’t push, okay? I’ll wait for you to bloom, same as me.” 

Micah felt goosebumps run up their arms, but just nodded. It was a deal, even if unspoken. The Fallbrook gates swallowed them up, bringing them back into the shade, and up to their surrogate home. 

ADA greeted them, locking the airlock as she pumped sanitizing fog in, and adjusted their pressure. Micah made another joke about the Bends. Nobody laughed. 

“Can I shower first?” Nyoka asked, “I’ll be quick. I didn’t really do anything.” 

“You did what I asked,” Micah said, “of course you can. I have to start dinner anyway.” 

“Dinner? Now? It’s like Five.” 

“These take a while!” Micah grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in chapters but i have a huge backstock to post lol. Covid is nuts/I moved right at the start of lockdown/etc. posts should be way more regular from here on out. Also, I'd love to hear if you l guys like longer chapters like these or if you'd prefer that I keep them under 5-7k. I know they can be huge sometimes, but I'm like... a novelist?? I write books?? so my brain is hotwired for long form writing. I don't want to bloat the chapter count, either, but it does result in me ending up w chapters that are 16 thousand words that I chop into 2/3 parts. Like this one... I'm going to try to update every 2-4 weeks consistently again. I'm excited for the DLC :^) thank you again to everybody who leaves me kudos and comments, they really keep my motivation up for this heehee.


	6. Whip It

Dinner usually came with an explanation, not instructions, so when Micah told everybody to wait as they served the tamales, still wrapped, they heeded the warning. Micah sat at the head of the table and demonstrated how to unwrap the little bundles a few times, and then they began eating. The rest of them took a bit longer to get the hang of removing the husk, exposing the delicious innards like some kind of bizarre ritual. 

“Captain, these are mighty fine,” Parvati said. The first to speak, already well into her second tamale. Micah gave her a thumbs up, and slowly quiet calls of agreement and approval floated out over the table. Micah felt flattered, keeping their head bowed slightly as they ate. Hoping to use their hunger as an excuse. 

It wouldn’t be necessary. These were so new, and, as Micah had said before, fun to eat. The involvement of unwrapping gave everyone an underlying sense of enrichment. 

_“Like giving a tiger a pumpkin full of raw meat,”_ Micah thought, watching Max and Felix both silently shucking their piles. Their fingers both moved expertly, but there was nuance to their methods. Unique. The entire crew had different methods of opening them. They didn’t even pay attention to their own hands. 

A noisy table was a hungry table, and this one was very quiet. They feasted, they laughed, they drank. It was a weird, communal evening. Most of the time that didn’t happen. While everybody could get along, rarely did they. But everybody’s fuses seemed to be extinguished, susceptible to the waves of cool bliss Micah was exuding. 

Micah set up the aetherwave viewer to keep them occupied while they did the dishes. SAM helped wash, Micah dried, and when the dishes were sparkling, shuttered away in cabinets and drawers, they plucked two little cookies from a jar and handed them to SAM. He had been waiting with his hand outstretched for the sweets. 

Micah leaned over and rubbed a small smudge off his face plate. He let out a happy tune, and set off to his room with heavy steps. Micah went back to their seat, already holding a handful of fruit to snack on. 

It was very late when Max crept out of his room. His stomach wasn’t aching, but he certainly couldn’t sleep. He tread with soft feet through the hall, pausing when he heard the muffled voice of Micah in the kitchen. The lights were on, too… 

He stepped forward, leaning up against the wall in the hallway, unnoticed. They were standing to the left of the table, facing Felix directly. He was seated, cheek propped on hand, elbow propped on table. He didn’t know _what_ they were doing. The aetherwave viewer was stowed, there were no snacks or magazines littering the place. 

Micah was taking a breath, and then they began speaking again. 

“Oh, how the lonesome wolf cries  
Echoing starlight under the full moon.   
To be heard, to be held, to yearn,   
The dreams of the unbroken spirit   
Fall into slumbering ears.

And whilst rain, and sleet doth cool the stone  
Upon which graves are carved,   
Mourning Earth, the original Mother.  
We remain.

W-"

Max cleared his throat, interrupting them. Micah’s voice vanished from the air, and they almost seemed _embarrassed_ by the recital. 

“I apologize, Captain. I just couldn’t sleep. Continue, please. Is this by anybody in particular?” He urged, coming into the room and sitting at the table. Micah coughed, and there was no mistaking the shyness on display from their now-crumpled torso. 

“No one special. An Earth poet,” they said, “they wrote a few books I like. I have their poetry collection.”

“May I read it sometime?” He asked. 

“Hey, Vic, maybe _actually_ apologize for stopping them in the middle of it instead of just muscling in with half assed compliments?” Felix snapped, “we were kind of doing something here.” 

Max held his breath, stiffening at the scolding. He looked back at Micah, who had no emotion, but that wasn’t really true. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, tone soft and private. “I didn’t realize you two had something going on.” 

“It’s okay,” Micah nodded, “are you hungry? Do you want some coffee?” 

Felix was still glaring at Max. The vicar’s eyes fluttered infrequently to check on the seething young man. Should he say yes? Was Micah just showing him politeness to relieve the tension? 

“Max?”

“If it’s okay with you two?” He offered. 

“Felix? I know it’s a bit bitter for you, do you want something else?” Micah asked. 

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Felix said. 

Micah made the drinks silently. The whole ship was quiet. He knew they usually stayed up late together, but he had no idea what those twilight hours entailed for them in detail. Did Micah recite poetry often? Was this a single performance? Did he, by accident, completely ruin this special night? 

Micah set down three mugs, and sat across from them. With their seating, Felix’s tension with Max snapped into non-existence. He took his mug and blew on the top of the hot chocolate. 

“It’s decaf,” Micah confirmed. Max took the handle in the curl of his fingers. 

“Thank you, Captain.”

“We’re touching down on Scylla in the morning. You two are coming with me,” they said. 

“Why?” Felix asked. 

“I want to nip the Primal boom there in the bud, they’ve been getting increasingly violent,” they nodded. 

“But why bother?” Max asked, “Scylla is uninhabitable, let them run wild there.” 

“That’s not right, though. If it gets out of control there’s no hope for Scylla. They’re an invasive species there, anyway. What can they even eat? If populations get out of control, what happens? They’ll starve to death, cannibalize, get sick. It’s a cruel fate regardless, all because of a little crash,” Micah sighed. 

“Mercy killing doesn’t seem to be your style, Boss,” Felix furrowed his brows, and Micah shrugged. 

“It’s not, but it’s an excuse. I want to relocate the Primals off of Scylla eventually, but we can’t until we have, y’know, specialists,” they said, taking a long drink and setting the mug down. They were all using the same white ceramic mugs, but it looked like a child’s teacup in Micah’s hand. 

“There’s a lot you may not know about me!” Micah chuckled, “but there’s a lot I don’t know about you guys, too! I actually love animals, I have an incredible amount of respect for them. No society, money, pressure. Just living, wildly. Adrenaline based, instinct, closed circles. No direction from Capitalist Machines, isn’t that what we all long for?” 

“Would you revert if you could?” Max joked, but Micah shook their head. 

“I was destined to be born in this body, and live this life. If I were supposed to be a monkey, or a man, or a monarch butterfly, I would have been born that. It’s euphoric to be yourself, is it not?” Micah asked him. Felix bowed his head a little, not wanting to get into it with them. He wouldn’t be able to keep up, and he knew that. 

“Don’t we all strive to be more, though?” Max asked. 

“Not at all. I want to improve, but I can’t see the future. I have to make myself comfortable with the ambiguity of time, and accept that anything I do, I must do for myself at this moment.” 

“Confident as ever, aren’t you?” Max said over his coffee. The corners of his eyes crinkled at the kind teasing. 

“Confidence comes naturally with self knowledge. I’m a complete picture, and I present myself as much,” Micah said. 

“I don’t know, boss,” Felix mumbled, “I think we’re still missing a few puzzle pieces on you. You just said, after all.”

“But those will come with time,” they nodded at him, eyebrows twitching in acknowledgment.

“It’s late, Captain,” Max said, “you’re planning on going out with such little sleep?”

“You’re up too.” 

“Fair point,” he grunted. 

“We’ll all go to bed after this,” Micah nodded. Felix frowned but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his choice, or the fault of either. He’d just really wanted to hear the end of that. 

Max asked again about the poetry, but Micah brushed him off once more. 

“If I can find the books I’ll let you know,” they shrugged, “I know I have some of their novels out already, but I’m reading those.” 

They gave him an apologetic smile, and he waved his hand to dismiss it. 

“It’s fine, I was just curious. So you have their poetry memorized?” He asked. 

“Mhm! I enjoyed it quite a bit when I first found it. Not everything they wrote is so…”

“Pretentious?” Max asked. 

“No, I was going to say floral. Their writing is a mouthful, but I think it all comes from the heart. There’s this one, only like… three lines? Hits fuckin’ different, dude,” they snickered. 

“Care to share?” 

“They already said it before,” Felix said. 

“Did you? Was I there?” 

“It was right before the one you walked in on,” Micah shrugged, “so probably. Seems like you were there for a bit.”

_Shut down._

Max had missed it, and that was obvious. Maybe this was Micah’s retaliation for his intrusion. He didn’t want to act like a fool and prod further, instead, he finished his coffee. 

Micah gathered the mugs and went to go wash them. Max went back to his room, closing the door and tugging at the collar of his shirt. Law, he had never felt so suffocated in his life. 

The hush over the Unreliable was almost frightening to him. Everybody seemed to be aware that they were living in a ghost ship, picked like a ripe mockapple from the branches. There was no mistaking it. This wasn’t Micah’s ship. Not originally. And ADA knew that just as well as the rest of them. They were all living with the ghostly presence of Alex Hawthorne. 

Max pinched the bridge of his nose, holding his breath hard to try to distance himself from those thoughts. It felt too gross to think about. The warm light of the kitchen gone, shuttered away behind his closed door like the dishes in the kitchen cupboards. It was dark, he should’ve just tried harder to fall asleep. What the fuck even was that just now? 

Felix tapped Micah’s shoulder gently as they dried off the mugs, and they turned to look at him. 

“Will you finish that poem?” 

“Not tonight, is that okay? Max kinda threw me off my groove. Next time, though, yeah?” They suggested, bright blue eyes blinking down at him. How could he say no?

“How could I say no, Boss?” He laughed. 

“Very good!” Micah beamed, “you don’t have to stay up with me. I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Then I’ll stay up for a minute,” he said. “I’ll put them away.” 

In the morning, the crew was back to its usual self. No longer placid, and content with each other. Nyoka and Max argued over the bathroom, Ellie and Felix exchanged a few sarcastic greetings, Parvati was grumbling to SAM about something unheard. Micah hoped a good meal would settle everyone back down. Breakfast was big, but simple. Pancakes, bacon, hash browns, eggs. They all ate their fill, and Micah left the table to go get ready for their little romp Scylla-Side. 

They slid themselves into a shiny black bodysuit, like a second skin. It was interwoven with red lines along the joints, leaving only their head, hands, and feet exposed. Sitting on the floor they picked out clothes they didn’t necessarily mind ruining, but still… they hoped the stains would come out. 

They geared up as usual, an ample first aid kit, weapons, and food. Tucking carts, and IDs, and candy into pockets and pouches. 

Felix and Max were waiting by the airlock, not talking. Max couldn’t help but feel a ripple of residual frustration left over in Felix. Max wasn’t going to say sorry, but he could at least acknowledge it in his own right. 

Interrupted. Micah’s appearance drew the attention of both of them. Micah raised a hand in greeting. Their Tossball stick was carefully tucked through their arm, resting over their shoulder. It had a new mod, and the bitter stench of hot acid made the hair in their noses curl as they led the way into the airlock.

“Are you ready to rumble?” They asked, trying to contain their excitement. They were doing a good job at it, but in the airlock, they tapped one foot against the other, alternating with each step in place. They urged Felix and Max to head down the ramp ahead of them. 

Micah had a six pack of beers tucked under their arm. They were fumbling inside their sleek black sweatshirt, and pulled out a small case. Inside it was a screwdriver. They bounced down the ramp to catch up with Max and Felix on the platform. They pulled the cans out, handing two off to their companions. 

“Okay, I don’t normally drink but,” Micah didn’t explain any further. That pocket screwdriver was shoved into the bottom of the can. They brought it to their mouth quickly, and cracked the top. 

“That’s not true, you drink all the time,” Felix said, glancing at Max as he grimaced at the foam sputtering out from the punctured can. Micah nodded, taking a deep breath before repeating the process on another can. The beer in Halcyon wasn't bitter, and Micah hated that. It held a sweet aftertaste, like aspartame, and too much of it would make Micah sick. It was weaker, sweeter, and all around worse. They needed to get some hops to Adelaide as quickly as they could. This didn't even make them pull that disgusted, but satisfied _Ahhhh!_ afterwards. They just crushed the cans in their fist and let them fall to the ground. 

Max sighed and drank his beer in two massive drinks. Felix was the only one who seemed to remotely pace himself. Max wanted to get it over with, Micah wanted to _run_. 

After shotgunning four, they whooped to the sky and took off at a headlong sprint. 

“Captain, wait-“ Max started, but Micah just laughed as they charged the guard rail. 

“Do you want to live forever?” They shouted, leaping clear over. Felix was already at the rail before they hit the ground, peering over to watch Micah land with an expertly timed shoulder roll. 

Max deposited the empty, crushed cans into the garbage bin.

“Since you’re not wailing, I assume they’re fine?” Max asked, dusting his hands off. 

“C’mon, Vic, we gotta get down there!” Felix said, making a mad dash for the elevator. Max sighed as he followed. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe he was getting too old for this shit. 

Why would Micah bother taking him anyway? Nyoka was much more in line with this sort of activity. Hell, even Ellie liked this sort of senseless violence. 

Well… he did too. 

That’s why, despite the frustration Micah made him feel, he was the first one to go running off that platform once it hit the ground. Knee be damned. He didn’t want to miss out. Maybe it was the beer, it was probably the beer, but the jolt of electricity down his spine made him both foggy headed, yet filled with clarity. 

Felix wasn’t far behind, only a few feet given the variety of heights in their assorted team. His head was less foggy, and less clear. He was focusing on the cloud of dust they were heading towards, listening to the rumblings of a thunderous fight. 

He wanted in, he wanted to be in that furious duo. Felix wanted to be necessary in the fight, even though he knew they didn’t need him. 

_Oh, how the lonesome wolf cried._

They broke through the dust to find Micah surrounded, but unbothered. Focusing on the Mega primal, ignoring the lesser, they were wielding their Tossball stick expertly. 

Felix launched himself into a dropkick, colliding with one of the smaller Primals and knocking it to the ground in a heap. Micah let out a cheer of approval in his direction before sweeping the legs from the Mega Primal. Distracted for only a second, Felix didn’t notice the Primal to his side, that swung out and landed a punch to his gut. 

He felt his belly churn, but he fought on in spite. He and Max cleared the smaller ones, choking on dirt as the apes twisted and spun. 

When the last one fell, both turned to see if Micah needed help. They didn’t, still focused entirely on their duel. Micah had made space, and was running back in. They kicked their own heels, jumping into the air, bringing their stick overhead to land the killing blow. 

The Mega Primal reared up just as they left the ground. It’s fist collided with their unprotected chest directly, smashing them downwards. The slam was great, sending a shower of chopped gravel and dust out. 

Micah hit the ground hard with a dull thud, but bounced back up as if their torso was made of rubber. Felix felt the air rush out of his lungs for them, but Micah had simply continued to fight. The impact was nothing to them, despite shaking the ground he and Max stood on. He watched them jump again, grab the head of the primal, and rip it clean off with a sickening snap. 

Max vomited. 

It took a minute before he did, but he eventually had to teeter away to puke behind a rock, Felix burping loudly as to avoid a similar fate. Micah was covered in blood, and breathing hard. Utterly blank faced despite the obvious bruises blooming up their neck. Felix wondered if they’d broken any bones, if their ribs were powder in their chest. Micah had finished the fight with that swift beheading, and juggled the primal head back and forth in their hands like a basketball. 

Felix followed Max’s footsteps and puked beside him. 

Felix had always thought he’d be fine with the gore and violence, and he mostly was. Just… sometimes it was too much at one time. No human being should be ripping off Primal heads. Micah was grotesque in ways he admired, and also refused to acknowledge. They chucked the head away from them, and approached sympathetically. 

“Lo siento,” they said. Uncommon that they’d apologize in Spanish, but they were still seeing stars. 

“It’s okay,” Felix replied, still doubled over. 

“How are you real?” Max coughed, wiping his mouth on the handkerchief Micah was offering. 

It was the sound that got to Max. He’d never been a fan of the crunching of bones, and the sound of flesh tearing. He’d witnessed a factory accident growing up, one of many, nothing uncommon in backwater towns, but it had left his childhood mind as mangled as the laborer’s arm in the end. 

The feeling was different. The feeling of bone breaking under his fist, cracking nasal cartilage or cheekbone. _That_ was satisfying. That sent those electric shocks up his spine, but the sound made his stomach roil. 

Felix would argue a multitude of things. The strike to the gut, too much breakfast, maybe that last dropkick had jostled up his second helping. But maybe it was the sound, and the smell. Primal blood was rancid, and they were surrounded by the pungent cocktail. Micah was doused in it, but unfazed as always. 

“I’m itching for a shower,” Micah sighed, stretching their arms across their chest. Max and Felix agreed, wondering just how many of these random killing sprees they’d be going on. Micah hadn’t stopped moving since getting that suitcase full of clothes. 

Patrols on Monarch, sweeps on Scylla, Marauder Meatgrinders on Terra-2. Every day felt like it was some new bloodbath for them. Micah loved the new routine, and would keep it up solo if they had to. Surely Edgewater would need more fertilizer soon, if the seeds they provided sprouted properly.

“Rangers are playing tonight,” Felix said as they walked back to the ship. 

“Against the Darlings?” Micah asked. “We’re that close to the Championships, huh?” 

“They only come once a year,” Max sighed, “unfortunately.” 

“there’s no off-season season?” Micah asked, “no interim rewards?” 

“What? No,” Max said, “they only broadcast the bigger skirmishes in the off season. They need time to train new players after all.” 

“I see,” Micah nodded, “I wonder what they do with all that free time. Considering how weak the games are-“

“Oh, Law. This again?” Max almost laughed. “Next you’ll be telling us that Earth Sportatoriums had apartments for their players.” 

“I wouldn’t know that,” Micah snorted, “why would that even be a thing?”

They stopped suddenly, grunting and grabbing at their side. They squatted down, heaving a heavy sigh. They rolled up their sleeve high, and pulled a raw shot of adreno out of their pocket. They flicked the cap off the needle, and set it into the crook of their arm. They took a deep breath, and exhaled as they pressed down the plunger. 

Max and Felix were looking on in horror. They stood back up, rolling their neck, and turned to them. Micah registered the shock at the scene, and coughed. Neither of them had ever seen anybody do _that_ before. The inhalers in Halcyon were widespread for a reason, injection was almost never used. 

“Ah, see. I have a thing,” they showed off the small bump in their arm, “it’s a permanent IV.” 

“Permanent?” Max asked. 

“Mhm. I just used the Adreno directly.” They shrugged. “But let’s get back to the real conversation!”

They bickered with Max about the logistics of Tossball Team Apartments for much too long. Felix endured it until the Airlock opened for them. Then, he turned, and nearly begged Micah to take a shower before the primal blood stunk up the whole ship. The first blast of cool, white gas hit them. Sanitizing. 

“Thank you, Felix, for having the crew’s best interests in mind,” ADA congratulated. Micah agreed, but Max just cleared his throat. They were positively covered in solid bruising up the neck and onto the face. 

“Maybe afterwards, it’s best if you see Ms. Fenhill? Before that Adreno wears off, of course,” he suggested. Micah nodded, but they winced when they lowered their head. 

“I did take a pretty big smack. Donkey Kong got me with a barrel,” they muttered, “I’ll stop in. I need my physical for this month done anyway. I can’t believe it’s already March.” 

Felix remembered their prior conversation. He knew they’d been unthawed in October, far off Phineas’ plan for May. He didn’t know what the complications had been. Another puff of gas. 

“I’m glad to see you watching your health, and getting a second opinion,” Max continued. 

“Yeah, sure,” Micah shrugged, wincing again. “I mean, I’m not a doctor.” 

“But Phineas said you were a scientist?” Felix said. 

“I’m not. I told you before, I’m not. I just know a lot about it. I took a lot of electives in college. I can’t remember if I double majored and double minored or not. Sure felt like it,” they said, “I’m not a medical doctor anyway, I just got good at taking care of myself.” 

“Were you sickly?” Max asked. 

“ADA, does this go any faster?” Micah grunted. 

“No, Captain. The blood soaking your body is full of contamination,” she replied. 

“I wasn’t sickly,” Micah said, “obviously.” 

“Yeah, Vic. Micah is like the healthiest person in Halcyon,” Felix defended. 

“You know, I don’t doubt it,” he sighed. Micah was glad they managed to redirect the conversation. The final burst of white fog cleared, and ADA opened the door for them. Micah stepped out first, going up the stairs and to the shower immediately. 

They felt dizzy in the hot water, pressing a palm to the soft spot at the back of their neck. The sludgy blood from the Primals sloughed off like mud, pooling on the drain before being diluted enough to slip through. They briefly wondered if they were concussed, running shampoo through their hair a second time to get the last traces of funk off. 

Micah gagged at the smells mixing in the small room. 

“ADA, can you let SAM know he’ll need to clean in here when I’m done?” They coughed.

“He’s already been notified, Captain. Would you like me to turn up the vent?” She asked. 

“Please, if you would,” they said. The bathroom fan kicked into a higher gear, sucking out the steam, and some of the smells. They heaved again, but nothing came up. They’d already pissed out the beers earlier, but they could feel an excess of bile in their gut. 

“Four humours,” they spat, the big spit ball piercing the soap lather bubbling up around their feet. They wanted to be _clean_ and out of there already, but the hot water also eased the intense aching in their bones. It was a double edged sword. Luckily, it would be decided for them. 

“Captain,” ADA rang, “it seems Ellie is prepared to see you now. You’ve been in the shower for fifteen minutes, by any calculation, you must be clean.” 

Micah dried themselves off, pulling on a pair of boxers and a sports bra before swaddling themselves in a black robe that hit their knee. They knew they’d have to undress for Ellie. They might as well make it easy on themselves. 

They padded, barefoot, through the kitchen, passing SAM along the way. 

“Stinking problems need Sparkling Solutions! Count on SAM to solve!” He chimed. 

“Thank you for cleaning,” Micah said. Nyoka watched them pass from the table. They looked like shit, is what she thought. It didn’t surprise her that they stopped at Ellie’s door, knocking twice before being allowed in. 

Micah untied the robe at Ellie’s request, and she began looking them over with small electronic tools. She scanned their arms and legs, asking for details on the fight as she did. 

“Your ribs, huh?” She muttered, laying a cool hand on the bruise on Micah’s neck. “Did you take a hit to the collarbone?” 

“It could have happened in the slam,” they said, “it’s not dislocated.”

“I know that, I just want to double check for fractures or tearing up here,” Ellie said. “Also, Felix told you you shot yourself up with Adreno. Don’t get cocky with that.” 

“It’s okay,” they said, “you know about my arm.”

“That still doesn’t make it any less risky. You know better than I do, you had medicine from Earth. _Good_ medicine.”

Ellie continued to take Micah’s readings. Blood pressure, pulse, and other vitals. A few more scans to the chest and back completed the examination, and she plugged the master chip into her Datapad. A few new numbers popped up instantly, but the rest of the physical needed time to process. 

Ellie asked Micah to remove their bra, and bandaged their torso with care. Not too tight, but still stabilizing. She didn’t want to do any potential damage to an already weakened rib cage. Micah sighed when she strapped the bandages down, and Ellie raised an eyebrow at them. 

“Nothing, it’s just been a while since anybody’s done this. Feels a bit nostalgic,” they said. “What's up with my chart?”

“You’re shrinking back to ‘normal’ height,” Ellie updated, “I can tell you this now, you’ve got two pulled muscles, and a few bruised bones. Your ribs have been in better shape. Your shoulder isn’t dislocated, but it _is_ strained. Take the weekend off and you’ll be better in, oh, I don’t know, 3 days? Maybe 5. Given your self medicating is actually accurate. Come to me if you need anything _really_ strong. No more Adreno shots.” 

“Cool, how tall am I now?” 

“Under 7, if that’s any consolation. Barely. You’re still up there.” 

“Ugh,” Micah grunted, “Ellie, you’d think you wouldn’t notice an extra four inches once you’re as big as me, but what the fuck.” 

“Don’t ask me! I’m just reporting,” she scoffed, “you ever heard of a little saying ‘don’t shoot the messenger’?” 

“Ha, like that ever works. Guns were invented to be shot, after all.” 

Ellie and Micah held uncomfortable eye contact for much too long. Micah didn’t even blink. It made the hair on Ellie’s arms stand up. They were dressed down, now bandaged, but they weren’t vulnerable. If anything, they seemed completely at ease, and their almost-nude body acted like a thunderous reminder to Ellie that they were much less intimidating _with_ their clothes on. 

Ellie relented. 

“I know you aren’t stupid, but I can barely understand you sometimes,” she said as she turned to her datapad, which had emitted a dull note signaling Micah’s physical had been logged successfully. Ready for review. Micah sat up straight, hands clasped in their lap, like a polite patient waiting for their results. 

“Yeah, you’re clear. You’ve actually gained three pounds of muscle?” She frowned. She began pulling up other charts, comparing them while numbers bounced through her head. Her stomach growled, snapping her both out of her trance, and into a feeling of pure lucidity. 

“You know, Cap, you’re real clever. I didn’t realize why you were asking for those physicals until just now,” she smirked, “you’re putting us on diets!” 

“I’m not,” Micah said, “I don’t restrict any food, I only encourage you to eat what I make, and eat when you’re hungry.”

Ellie stared Micah down, who still had that utterly relaxed air about them. But there was some discomfort in the way their brow creased, and the tensing of their jaw. 

Micah relented. 

“I don’t use you as guinea pigs on purpose, it just happened. Halcyon’s food fucking sucks, Ellie! I don’t know what’s wrong with it exactly, but the more we eat from Adelaide’s supplies, the more balanced the nutrition is. I’m trying to figure out how we can make proper meals with a mix of both. All of you were famished when I met you! How could I let you all go hungry, even on full stomachs?” They gushed. Ellie nodded along. 

“I’m sure you’ve got our best interests in mind. Are you willing to answer one question for me?” She asked. 

“Anything.” 

“What’s in that fertilizer?” 

“It’s shit,” Micah said. No hesitation. No falter. 

“That’s what you’re doing on those trips then?” Ellie scoffed. Micah nodded. 

“I grew up making compost and fertilizer from shit. I don’t mind it. I don’t think anybody here wants to scrape candid crap off the ground and mix it with rotting mockapple cores, but I do,” they said, “Adelaide needs someone strong to make such large batches, and we’re only growing more seeds each month.” 

“I see,” she sighed, tapping her fingers against the sleeves of her jacket. 

“Look, don’t mention it to the others. I’m not conducting anything weird. There’s no pills or chemicals or garbage in the food I make. I’m just cooking us dinner, and seeing if everybody feels full,” Micah said, rubbing the back of their neck. “It’s not like I’m starving you, either. I just want everybody to get enough.” 

“You’re a fucking commie,” Ellie laughed, and Micah groaned. 

“Like that’s new. Yes, I was raised in a communist country, but I’m actually more of an anarcho-socialist-“ Micah got cut off by Ellie giggling. 

“I’ll keep it level with you. I’ve never had food as good as yours before in my life, okay? There’s your compliment. I won’t say shit, but you’ve got to make me that noodle dish,” she bargained. 

“What, Shio?” Micah asked, “the ramen from the vid?” 

“Yes! Whatever that was. If you make that for me I’ll keep all your little secrets hidden,” Ellie scoffed, “that way you don’t owe me.” 

“No problem,” Micah said, “if I were more secretive, I’m certain you’d like speaking with me more.” 

“You’re fine. I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but you’re seven fucking feet tall!” Ellie joked. 

“I’m six foot eight,” Micah defended weakly. 

Ellie grunted, rolling her eyes as she gestured rudely toward Micah. 

“Who cares, Micah? I know you’ve got more happening than you let on. Who do you even confide in? Max? _Felix_?” 

“I’ll have you know Felix and Max are both very good listeners, and conversationalists. Everybody here is fulfilling to my life in some way or another,” they said, “I enjoy being awash in the companionship of you all. I think of this crew as an extension of myself, and I love myself very much. So I love you.” 

Ellie blinked and shut her mouth, realizing it had fallen open just a touch. Micah shot them a smile that could have lit up a black hole. This was how they felt. She didn’t like the idea of them getting attached, she didn’t want to get attached either. But was there anyone as cool as Micah in Halcyon? 

“How’d you get covered in scars like this? If you love me so much will you tell me the truth?” She asked. 

“Hm… no. Not all, but how about you pick one and I’ll tell you,” they bargained. 

“What about the big one,” Ellie suggested. 

“Face? Belly? Knee?” Micah asked. 

“Whichever,” she shrugged. 

“I got the one on my belly from a crocodile when I was a kid. I went swimming in the big river by my house, and I got bit,” they said. Their hand covered the big, stretched out shape over their middle. Ellie had asked about it before, during her first examination. She remarked on it’s unique shape and location, right over the belly button. 

“See? How shallow it is here? I had a really small belly button to begin with, that’s why it’s almost invisible. The tissue grew back over it,” they patted their stomach, a meaty slap came from it, even if the touch was gentle. “Taught me to always look before I leap!” 

“You’re not kidding?” Ellie asked. Micah raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head. Ellie raised a smooth palm to Micah, inhaling and exhaling deeply. 

“You got _attacked by a crocodile_? How old were you?” 

“Hm… it was before… so maybe six? Or seven?” They said. 

“And you lived?” 

“Clearly, and not without damage,” they snorted. 

“What did you do?” She asked, almost at a loss for words. She almost hoped they’d refuse to answer. 

“What anybody would do! I killed it and I took it home for dinner!” They smiled, and had the gall to _laugh_ as if it were some big joke. They removed their hand from their belly, and Ellie could clearly see, now, that the jagged edges were tooth and tear marks, not a burn like she’d originally anticipated. 

Their big, toothy grin was almost ominous. A sinister shadow in the dark. For her, having a maw like that would have been hell.

_“Maybe you really are what you eat…”_ she thought. 

“Well, Doc, is that it? Am I clear to go?” 

“You’re on home rest, okay? No primal hunts or Mantisaur soccer until next week,” she nodded. She looked back at her datapad as Micah got dressed, and left the room. 

“Hey,” Micah said from the doorway, “thanks for keeping us patched up. It’s good to have an authoritative word in medicine around.” 

“You’re welcome,” Ellie said, not looking up. Micah was more than capable, but they did seem less frazzled with someone else doing the check ups. 

Micah left to head back to their room, but Nyoka called out from the kitchen. 

“You all clear, Cap?” She greeted as Micah approached. She offered an unopened beer, but Micah refused it. 

“I’m going to go take some ibuprofen, doesn't mix well in the gut with booze,” they explained. Micah didn’t want to mention the four they’d slammed earlier. 

“Ibuprofen?” Nyoka asked. 

“Anti-inflammatory pain reliever,” they said, “quite an easy compound once you learn how to properly make it. I made some last week at Phineas’.”

“So you’re a chemist, too?” Nyoka scoffed, “what can’t you do!” 

“I was going to say I’m shit at mechanical engineering, but-“ 

“Captain, may I remind you that your repair skills for machines are beyond exemplary,” ADA interrupted, “however, your abilities with pistols are severely lacking. And you cannot dodge.” 

“Hey, I _choose_ not to dodge! My knees aren’t as good as they used to be,” Micah said. 

“Aren’t you, like, 27?” Nyoka asked. 

“24,” Micah clarified. Nyoka blinked in surprise, sitting back and taking a drink from her can. 

“Damn… if I looked like you at 24 I don’t think anybody on Monarch would have fucked with me,” she whistled. Micah sighed, and winced again as their ribs creaked. 

“People don’t, but they’re also afraid of you most of the time,” they said, “it can be lonely with your head up in the clouds. Only birds keep you company.” 

“I see,” Nyoka muttered, looking at the stone face staring back at them. 

“Haha, well, I’d better go lay down. Ellie said so,” Micah nodded, slowly getting up out of the chair. They made another quick exit, knowing they’d made the conversation die with their bizarre phrases, head ducked ever so slightly as they took sanctuary in their room. 

They actually took Ellie’s advice. Lying flat on their back after swallowing a few plain tablets from an unmarked bottle. They’d picked up the inhaler they barely ever used, turning it over in their hands. It wasn’t worthless, but they certainly didn’t… need it. 

Micah tried to get comfortable, but ADA could only watch them squirm on the tiny bed. Eventually they crossed to their first aid kit, pulling out a few bottles and shaking them. ADA saw them nod, and then take a tiny syringe to the top. It was a quick administration into the permanent IV so perfectly hidden in the crook of their elbow. 

“Captain, may I ask what it is you just injected yourself with?” She asked. 

“Morphine. Very small dose, don’t worry. It’ll just kill the pain,” Micah said, “I’ve done it a million times.” 

“May I ask where you’re _retrieving_ said drugs from?” She said. 

“I’m making them at Phineas’ lab,” Micah said. 

“Thank you for being honest,” ADA said, and Micah felt heat bloom on their cheeks. They got back into bed after changing into something more comfortable, and they dozed off soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is yet another extremely long chapter enjoy tamale time.


	7. Dead Weight

It became rapidly clear to the rest of the crew that they’d be on their own for that evening’s meal. A subtle horror creeping up the collective spine, sent into ricocheting chills when ADA shut Micah’s door to drown out the snoring. 

Parvati, Nyoka and Felix hovered around the fridge. Max was rooting through a basket of vegetables he’d only been introduced to months ago. Ellie was flipping through the small recipe book Micah kept in one of the drawers. 

“Do we have eggs?” She asked. 

“Yes,” Felix nodded. 

“Cream, butter, cheese, and cysty bacon?” She listed. 

“We do,” Nyoka answered. 

“Vicky, do we have spinach and green onions?” She asked. 

“Do not call me Vicky,” Max grunted, lifting two labeled bundles of leafy stalks. “Yes, we’ve got them.” 

“Okay. We can make whatever this is,” Ellie said, spinning the book around. Felix parted from the trio of fridge vultures, reading Micah’s handwriting easily. He recognized the name, and remembered the brief conversation they’d had while getting their last order of cream from the Groundbreaker. 

“Oh, I can make this,” Felix nodded. The commotion died to a halt, and Ellie almost laughed at him. 

“Really, Millstone?” She asked, “I don’t even think you can cook a macrowave dinner properly.”

“Look, that was one time,” Felix said with a lowered voice, “just trust me, okay? Boss actually talks a lot about food if you let them.” 

“I think we should let him try!” Parvati chirped. She blushed when the attention was put on her, and rushed to explain her outburst. 

“He can’t do worse than us, right? We’re just as clueless to the Captain’s cookin’! If he makes a mess of things, well, who's to say we’d have done better?” She said, giving Felix a confident smile. 

“Thanks, Parvati,” he grinned back. Nyoka shrugged in agreement, and eventually Ellie sighed in contempt. 

“I’ll supervise,” Max offered, “the rest of you just… make yourselves busy elsewhere.” 

“Can do!” Ellie said, slapping her knees as she got up to leave. Parvati offered to stay as well, but Max told her there was nothing to worry about. Nyoka had already gone to take a shower before Max had even said a word to her. 

“So, what’s the catch?” Felix said as he read over the recipe. Max felt himself raising his eyebrows. 

“Catch?” 

“You staying behind? Doesn’t sound much like you. Not when Parvati offers,” he said, “you getting soft, old man?” 

“I… honestly I just wanted to see if you were bullshitting or not,” Max said. Felix had disarmed him with such a quick assessment. Felix smirked at him, leaning against the table. 

“Boss basically taught me to make this before,” he said, “we need mushrooms and tomatoes too if we want it to be really good. And some of that weird cultured stuff they make on the counter. Creme Fraise.” 

“Law, really? I know you two are good liars but-“ 

“Why would I lie? I’m hungry, Max,” he said, “Boss is obviously not doing too hot. We don’t just stop being a Crew because they’re sleeping.” 

“So it’s _you_ who's getting soft, young man?” Max teased, and Felix shrugged. The tips of his ears got pink, but it didn’t matter to him. He was thinking about Micah’s feelings toward those group meals. He wanted to see if there was a similar rush when he did it. He also wanted to make sure Micah got dinner. 

“It’s cool to care about people,” Felix said. 

Max stopped smirking, and Felix went to go pull things out of the fridge. He watched Felix maneuver around the kitchen with the ease and experience he lacked. It was true, though, that Felix helped Micah cook the most. Max often heard the quiet requests for bowls or spatulas in the late afternoon. 

Felix set the oven to preheat, and the _big_ cast iron pan on the burner. He hovered his hand over the blackened surface to check that it was warming up, then he turned his attention to the actual ingredients. 

“I’m not as graceful as Boss is,” Felix said over his shoulder, “I can’t crack eggs with one hand.” 

“You’ve already impressed me, Felix,” Max said from his seat at the table. It was rare that Max gave him anything close to a compliment, so Felix decided to shut up and leave it there. 

Indeed, Max continued watching as Felix cracked eggs, careful to not spill the viscous whites onto the miniature cookbook. In went cream, pieces of cheese he was shredding with his hands, spices Max didn’t catch the labels of. Felix read the directions carefully, cutting the tomato into slices, then sticks, finally into cubes. 

It didn’t take as long as he thought it would, most of the prep was easy to cut, but he was afraid of shearing himself with the sharp blades Micah kept. He was so envious of the dexterity and confidence they had with all of this. What the fuck! It was just food, why was he so hung up on how long it took him to cut a bunch of mushrooms and bacon? 

He shook his head, putting all of the bacon he’d cubed, and the diced mushrooms into the hot pan. They were rewarded with a satisfying sizzle, and a delicious scent as the fat rendered. 

“You really pulled the wool over our eyes,” Max said, amused at his attentiveness to the pan. 

“Yeah? Says who?”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense,” he said, “I just mean I didn’t expect you to actually know-“

“I know a lot of things! Maybe you should’ve spent some time with Micah while they cooked, or learned yourself instead of relying on that shitty OSI Mush they must feed you.” Felix snorted.

“E-excuse me? _OSI Mush?_ ” Max asked. 

“I mean, you’ve got to be eating oatmeal plain for 30 years straight to end up as boring as you,” Felix smirked, and Max groaned. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. 

“You are so stupid,” he said. 

“Just admit I got you good,” Felix said, “or I’ll tell Micah the OSI fed you mush.” 

“Okay, okay. Law, you’re such an ass sometimes,” Max said, actually having to keep himself from chuckling. It was kind of funny. And honestly, he wasn’t too far off from the food in Edgewater. 

“If dinner turns out bad I’m calling it OSI Mush, or Millstone’s Delight,” Max warned, “so don’t fuck it up.” 

“I won’t,” Felix said, getting ready to pour the egg mixture into the pan. Max let him concentrate until the pan was set in the oven, and Felix came to sit at the table too. 

“You good after that fight, man?” Felix asked, touching the sore spot on his side. 

“I took a hit to the back, right between my shoulders. I’m going to be sore for a week,” Max admitted, “how about you?”

“Big bruise, couple scrapes. I’ll be okay, but basically same,” he sighed, “I feel bad about Boss. I asked Ellie what was wrong but she refused to tell me, just said they were on bedrest for a couple days. Doctor patient confidentiality, y’know.”

“At least we’ll have time to recover,” Max nodded, “Micah always takes you out with them. Remember to tell them if you need a break.”

“Wow, you really are soft,” Felix laughed, “we’re young, Max! We’ll be fine!”

“Still, you’re not like them. Keep your health in check,” he cautioned, “you saw them fight. That would have killed us.”

Felix rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the table. It really was something else. _They_ were, at least. But that didn’t mean they… they didn’t feel pain like he did. 

“I think you’re overreacting.” 

“I was young too once. My knee is still shit now,” he grunted, “and don’t even try to pull the jail card. If Micah fucks this up, we’ll all be in jail. Or worse.” 

He was right. Felix knew it. The shiny gleam of wanted posters, outlaw life. It was different than on the Groundbreaker. He’d seen Phineas more than once, he knew the risks. But still. He didn’t want that facade broken just yet. Dinner was in the oven, the Captain was sleeping, they were all safe on their ship… it could be a little domestic. It was nice. 

“I don’t want to worry about all that right now,” Felix said, “I’m just thinking about those eggs.” 

“How long until it’s done?” 

“I set a timer. Micah showed me. It’s the thing shaped like a soup can,” Felix said. 

“Figures,” Max scoffed. 

Max reopened the copy of Solaris, he was about halfway through now. Micah still refused to discuss with him, not until he was finished. Felix flipped through another stack of Earth magazines. These ones were composed of almost entirely photos of stylishly, or outrageously, dressed individuals on city streets. 

Felix asked Max about the book. 

“Is it any good?” 

“I’m enjoying it immensely,” Max said, “perhaps someday you’ll loan it from the Captain as well.”

“Sure, sure,” he brushed off. He was interested in some of the books Micah had. He’d seen the stacks upon stacks of literature, and they’d begrudgingly admitted those were only a fraction of their real collection. Everything seemed fractal around them. 

“So, Boss told me they shut you down when you guys had your chat about it,” Felix said, “said you jumped the gun.”

“They want me to finish it before we discuss, that’s true,” Max said. “But I’d hesitate to call my eagerness, ahem, _‘jumping the gun’_. I consider it healthy curiosity, and a delighted search for newfound ideas. Simply, I’m very excited to have something new to read. It’s even more thrilling that someone familiar with the work, someone intelligent, is here to discuss the text. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“You see Boss like a scholar, right?” Felix asked.

“I…” Max paused, brow furrowing. “To be perfectly honest, I never really thought about that. They feel… difficult to define.”

“So that’s a no?” 

“I could ask you how you view them. Do you have an answer?” Max snorted. 

“Guess not,” Felix sighed, “kinda frustrating, to tell you the truth. We talk a lot, we do, cause we’re always together. But I feel like it just goes over my head sometimes. They’re smart, but they don’t make me feel stupid.” 

“Do you think of them like their title? The one you gave them?” 

“Oh, you mean _Boss_. I mean, duh. They are our boss. But, like… I don’t know. I just want to know if they think of us all as friends.” Felix’s face had fallen, and Max reached out and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

“Max… maybe we should put up more of an effort to get along with everybody,” he said, “for their sake.”

“What are you talking about? Everybody gets along just fine,” Max said, but Felix rolled his eyes at him. It’s true, that was a complete lie. There were tense threads woven like a web between all the crew members. Max couldn’t decide if Micah was the spider, or the fly. 

“I think it’s best if we remain ourselves and don’t instigate unnecessary conflict,” Max said, gesturing toward Felix slightly with his left hand. “But that’s what you were telling me, wasn’t it.” 

“Yeah, you nailed it. You can just talk better.” 

Max could have, and wanted to, make many rude remarks about Felix’s upbringing. But he stopped himself, remembering who was making their dinner, and who had asked him if he was okay after the fight, and who was trying to talk to him about the book he probably would never read. The circumstances of his youth were unfortunate, and unrelated to him entirely. A child doesn’t decide to be abandoned, or orphaned.

 _“Fuck,”_ Max thought, _“maybe Micah’s right.”_

“I think you get the point across without all the pompous formalities. It suits you,” Max said instead. Felix gave him a single nod, and he went back to reading his magazine. Leaving Max behind, the conversation closed but not finished, at least not to him. Leaving Max with his book, and his thoughts on the young man next to him. 

And the looming shadow snoring in the Captain’s quarters. 

And the ghostly reminders of the one previous. 

And then the timer went off. A ringing buzz that made both of them startle. They’d heard it before, but always with the drone of Micah talking over it. Nobody wanted to admit how much Micah really was the heart of the crew, and how much different it was to have these early evening hours void of them.

Felix had gone to the oven, and put on the mitts Micah normally used. They swallowed his hands completely, but they still felt secure. He pulled the big pan from inside, and set it on the burner ring like he’d seen Micah do with hot pans before. 

“It smells good,” Max said. He was encouraging, for once. Or perhaps he was just food motivated. Law, wasn’t everyone? 

“It has to sit for a while to firm up,” Felix said, “I think I’ll let everybody make their own toast.” 

“Do you know where they keep that _thing_?” Max asked, pointing his finger out and making a triangle motion. 

“Yeah, of course I do,” Felix said, opening a low drawer and pulling out a shiny metal… triangle. He grabbed a spoon and handed it off to Max to ring when the time was right. Felix pulled down plates, and tried to set everything up like Micah usually did while the eggs set. 

Max was right, it did smell good, but there was a gnawing sensation that it wouldn’t taste the part. Felix wasn’t the commander in chef after all. He cut it into eight wedges, despite the fact there were 5 of them. Onto the table he placed small bowls of hot sauce, creme fraiche, and, his favorite of the three, the scallions he’d taken so much time to dice finely. A feeble imitation of another’s hand, but one born from hopeless admiration. 

“Are you done fiddling?” Max huffed, “it’s fine the way it is. We don’t need all the pomp.”

“Okay, well maybe I like the pomp!” Felix retorted, “just because you grew up in some middle of nowhere dump doesn’t mean we can’t have a class meal.” 

_“Okay,”_ Max thought, _“maybe Micah is wrong.”_

“I’ll excuse your arrogance only because you had nobody to teach you better as a child, Mr. Millstone,” he sneered, “now, like I asked earlier: is dinner fucking ready or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY DLC DAY >:^) I'm on a roll now babey!! shorter chapters for the next 2-3 to give yall a bit of a breather lol. Hope you enjoyed <3


	8. Fool's Paradise

Micah woke up. 

Head fogged by the cocktail of drugs they put into themselves. Their stomach hurt from the alcohol. The bright lights and hot water of the previous night were still causing ache behind their eyes. They groaned loudly, covering their eyes with a thin green blanket, threadbare with tattered silk edges. 

“What a fucked up dream,” they sighed. They stretched out, dry sobbing dramatically as their bones and muscles stretched back to normal. 

“Ay!” There was a shout outside their door. Micah moaned as they sat up, swinging their legs over the side of the bed and standing. They stretched again, over their head, and down to their toes. Up and down, breathing deeply. 

“Ay!” Came the repeated bark. Micah reluctantly opened the door, and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. 

“Ay! Look who finally woke the _fuck_ up!” 

“Lo siento, Nikito!” 

They laughed as their hand came down on the coarse head of hair under them. 

“It’s your only day off, and you spend it sleeping until noon. Who even are you?” Nikey scoffed. Micah slid into the large chair at the head of the kitchen table, plucking a palmful of grapes from the overflowing fruit bowl. The house smelled like chocolate. 

“I’m still me, I was just dreaming like a crazy year long dream where one of the Halcyon arks the Board is trying to get us on got lost in space but, like, we were actually fucking in it?” They laughed, “I got unthawed by some Marty Mcfly Sidekick man and had to save the whole colony.” 

“Did you?” Nikey asked. 

“I woke up after getting my ass wrecked by a bunch of big monkeys called Primals? I met some cool people though. They were my crew on this spaceship called the Unreliable. I actually really got along well with this guy, Felix,-“ 

“You were dreaming, of course you got along well with them,” they smirked back. Nikey opened the oven and pulled out a pan of brownies. 

“On god are those Edibles, my good bitch?” Micah asked, pointing a thick finger at the pan. 

“Most certainly, my dude,” they nodded. 

“You really know how to treat me,” Micah sighed dreamily, fluttering their eyelashes at Nikey lovingly. 

“Please… fucking stop. I love you though, bro,” Nikey said, “also you gotta let these COOL for once in your life I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear the harashshashahsash while you burn your fuckin’ mouth off. It’s disgusting.” 

Micah groaned like a child, but eventually gave in to their roommate’s request. 

“It’s weird to hear you speaking English. That was some dream, huh?” 

“Whack, right? Like, whatever. If I eat enough of these brownies maybe I’ll go back to normal,” they sighed, slumped over on the table. 

“How are you feeling, by the way? You got your shit kicked at the end, even if you won,” Nikey said. 

“Perceptive as usual,” they nodded, “my ass hurt.” 

“Done. But for real, you good? You didn’t seem good last night.”

“King of sleeping it off,” they shrugged, “I might do a morphine drip tonight, though. Before we meditate.” 

“Are you going to go to the 8th dimension again?” Nikey asked, and Micah rolled their eyes. 

“It’s fucked up that you’re the only person on Earth that hears someone tell you that they assuredly do not have psychic powers, and yet you doubt,” they snorted, “that wasn’t Astral slime or whatever; I sneezed on the wall before I took my makeup off.” 

“Sure, sure,” Nikey said, but Micah was too busy looking at the deep scrapes on their arms. 

“I don’t remember getting hit here?” Micah said, “or on my chest? I don’t remember any of last night…”

“Whatever Rizzo’s pumped into the loading wing really fucked you up, huh?” Nikey said. They seemed less animated than usual. 

“Can I make Elote for dinner? I want corn,” Micah said. Nikey agreed, and they sat at the table together quietly until the brownies were cool enough for Micah to eat. 

Scarfing down three before chugging a bottle of cream from the fridge, Micah delighted in the chewy morsels. That dream really had felt real, and a box of brownie mix was a seventy year missed delicacy. 

“These are good,” Micah said, reaching for another. Nikey swatted their hand out of the air, and Micah frowned. 

“Thanks, I put coffee and cinnamon in them,” Nikey said. 

“No peanut butter?” 

“Of course I put fucking peanut butter, Micah!” They snapped affectionately. Micah laughed and grabbed one more brownie with permission from Nikey. 

“You’re gonna green out,” they warned, “these are strong.” 

“Good, I hope this kills me,” Micah chuckled. Nikey’s face went ashen, and they averted their eyes. 

“Don’t joke like that, dude. It’s fucked up. You play Tossball,” they muttered. 

“Nikito! I can’t die! What the shit!” They coughed up a piece of brownie, and nikey just shook their head. 

“Micah, I’m your waterboy, I live with you! I rub Icy Hot all over your gross body after every game. We can’t even go out in public now that you’ve got that bullshit tooth,” Nikey retorted, “did you even expect this when you signed up?” 

“I read my contract, and I signed it,” Micah nodded. “I didn’t pick the name, though.” 

“You like the joke. We both know it.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I just didn’t pick it!” They whined. 

“You’re carrying this whole sport on your back, and you can’t even go out to get a piece of pizza in New York freakin’ City. What’s the point of being The Red Scare if you can’t even be a celebrity!” 

“Nikito, you know it’s not… Nikey. I kill people. The fact that we don’t get arrested is because we’re protected by the Board,” they said, “you know what I have on the line.”

“Sorry,” Nikey grumbled, “that was a low blow even for me.”

“Yeah, and you’re pretty low!” 

Nikey scowled at Micah. They were almost two feet apart in height, with Nikey barely capping over five feet tall. Micah just glowed with that false ignorance, and unrelenting joy while they ate endlessly. 

They did feel like total dog shit. They were shaky, and sore. Stomach refusing to ache, but still cramping. It was a combination of physical stimuli to rival the birth of Frankenstein. 

“It’s my day off. Want to watch old movies?” Micah asked. 

“Sure, what do you have in mind?” Nikey said, already getting up to do the dishes. 

“Del Toro stuff? Or something else? Bill and Ted?” 

“You know what we haven’t watched in a while? Uh… the British spy guy? Has hot babes?” 

“James Bond?”

“No, the good one,” Nikey said, eyebrows furrowing.

“Oh!” Micah gasped, “Austin Powers?” 

“Yeah, Baby!” 

They didn’t know if they were actually concussed or if it was just the weed, but they felt strange and out of body while watching the movies with Nikey. It was a slow afternoon, the lack of sunlight in the main room was both a blessing and a curse. Was the hand on the clock pointing to dawn or dusk? Nikey has said noon, but it felt so much later than early evening. 

“Does today feel sticky for you too?” They asked, and Nikey shrugged. They weren’t ignoring Micah on purpose, and they knew that, but the air still felt unsettled. 

“I think you’re just feeling cooped up,” they replied, “think you can sneak out for a walk? Or should you just go to the SimulaPark on the roof? You might just be stoned. You ate a lot of brownies.”

“You _know_ I can’t stand that fake park. Canned fresh air, canned birdsongs, canned daylight.” Micah grimaced. 

“Hey, man. UV rays are UV rays. They keep me from losing it, so,” Nikey shrugged again. 

“You seem really dismissive today,” Micah frowned, “I’m sorry if I did something last night that upset you. I really don’t remember anything.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Micah. You’re just in a set of unfortunate circumstances,” Nikey huffed, “what should we watch now?” 

“You pick.” 

Nikey selected a shiny disc and slid it into the old DVD player. It was actually an old video game console Micah had always owned. Micah sat by and simply watched. Observing one of the many films they’d seen before, feeling every breath they took through their sore ribs. 

God, they’d really taken a beating. How heavy were those blows. It felt like somebody dropped a cartoon piano on them. The last thing they wanted to do was get up and move. The sprawling fake park on the roof… a miniature version of Central Park for the Tossball team cooped up in the executive suites. 

They were _too famous_ now, whatever the fuck that meant. Yeah, sure, they were all huge and routinely murdered other goliaths on television for live audiences, but why couldn’t they go out for a quick run? 

Micah ran their tongue over that diamond in their mouth. They forgot how much it cost, how many carats it was. A purchase of pure vanity, pure ego. It had utility potential, but that was just potential. They hadn’t thought of it when the Rizzo’s dentist asked what they wanted the replacement to look like. 

“Are you hungry?” Nikey asked suddenly. 

“Not really,” they returned, “I don’t really feel like anything.”

“If you want to go to bed early that’s fine. You were fucking busy yesterday!” 

“I might, I might. I want Elote though,” Micah frowned, but Nikey just shook their head. 

“Corn isn’t going anywhere, dude.” 

“I guess you’re right,” they sighed, “let’s watch House and then I’ll go to bed.”

“The Doctor show?”

“No, god no. 1977.” 

“Okay, good,” Nikey shot them a thumbs up. 

Micah was in the mood to watch somebody get eaten by a piano. Catharsis in the tune of a cat singing the same song that constantly played in the actual film. Kung Fu’s powerful gay stances.

“This movie fucks,” Micah said as the credits began rolling, causing Nikey to laugh. 

“I know. It’s one of your favorites,” Nikey said. “It makes sense. You’re just as crazy.” 

“Hey, man,” Micah scoffed, “if I weren’t batshit you’d still be cursing my name in the bathroom while I waited outside.”

“Bro, the first time we actually spoke you gave me French onion soup in a flask. Do you understand how fucked up that was? That was traumatizing, borderline,” Nikey started, “imagine like. God coming down to you and handing you a chalice you think would be full of wine but it’s actually blood.”

“That’s... how communion works?” Micah mumbled, speaking slowly as they tried to parse the comparison. 

“Look, I don’t need you telling me if your French onion blood soup raises the dead or cures blindness or makes a million pieces of bread to show up. I just know it was fucked up drinking it out of a flask.” 

“What did you think I was drinking?” Micah asked. 

“Literally do not know. Whiskey, or maybe tequila. You kinda seem like you’d fuck with a Tequila Sunrise,” they shrugged, “but like that still doesn’t change the fact that it was soup in there.” 

“I told you why there was soup in there!” Micah said, sweeping their arms out in front of them.

“I don’t care! We’re not talking about why!” 

“Why are we even fighting about my soup flask?!” 

“I don’t know. It’s fun,” Nikey said, all the aggression vanishing from their voice. 

“Okay, yeah true,” Micah said. Their arms flopped back to their side. “We have to be up early tomorrow to meet with the C Team for training so I’m going to bed.” 

“Do I have to go?” Nikey flopped onto the now-open spot Micah had occupied on the couch. 

“You’re my waterboy, of course you have to go,” Micah stretched themselves out, grunting and groaning as the tension in their muscles didn’t alleviate at all. 

“Can’t Cujo handle it?”

“No, he’s busy. Just cause he’s my second doesn’t mean he can take my shifts whenever,” Micah sighed. 

“I just don’t think you’re in any shape to be training the C Team. Those are your most aggressive new scouts, Micah. They could really fucking hurt you,” Nikey warned. 

“Aw, are you worried about me?” They teased. 

“Yes, I am, Micah,” Nikey frowned. Micah’s face faltered for a second, so they simply turned toward the exit and waved themselves off. They were too tired and sore to even shower. Plus, they’d spent plenty of time in the shower the night before. 

They fell back into their bed, face down, still in their pajamas from the night before. Micah managed to get themselves under the blanket before they faded out completely, but it was a close race. They could feel themselves snoring before they were all the way gone, but that encroaching darkness, deeper than the isolation of closed eyelids, crept up swiftly and completely.

Out like a light…

…

…

…

Micah woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow lol okay so the dlc huh... no spoilers for anything but ive had around 90 thousand words of this fic prewritten for a rlly long time and i'm wondering who at obsidian hacked my account lol. At least I know I understand Halcyon's dynamics more now :flushed: 
> 
> Also, go read my roomie's fic also called Fool's paradise they hated the first two chapters and redid it from scratch lol. Also Happy Birthday Bro.


	9. Gasoline

They blinked rapidly, body shooting upwards. Overcome with pain, they squeezed their eyes shut and grabbed at their ribs. They tugged on the bandages, popping the little metal clasp off. It unraveled a bit, letting Micah breathe in a splitting breath. 

They opened their eyes and beheld the glimmering stars outside the Unreliable’s windows. And then they burst into tears. 

ADA didn’t know what had happened, she ran double scenario processors to try to estimate better. 

“Captain, are you, perhaps, in a substantial amount of pain? Would you like me to contact Ellie-“

“No!” Micah sniffed between racking sobs. They _were_ hurting, but in so many ways. Ellie wouldn’t be able to do anything. This was a hot iron to the heart, and Micah covered their eyes with their hands. Resting their elbows on their knees, they cried for exactly twenty three minutes by ADA’s internal clock. 

“Captain… did you have a bad dream?” 

“I don’t know! It was, like. Good. But not great.” 

“Captain,” ADA said, “that doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I know, I know. I’m just… there’s somebody on The Hope I miss,” Micah said, “I had a dream about them.” 

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah, what time is it?” They asked, pulling the bandages back into position and redoing the clasp. 

“Almost midnight,” she said, “Felix is still awake in the kitchen. I think he’s waiting for you.” 

“For me? Why? We didn’t have anything planned.” Micah muttered, taking a few more ibuprofen after knowing the time. 

“He might be worried about you. You’re very close. His feelings for you are probably causing him stress,” she said. Micah sighed, flinching. They really did need to take it easy. Mega Primals were no joke… 

“Captain, would you like me to send him to bed?” ADA mused. 

“What? No way! I just need to get dressed. Plus, I’m starving.” 

“Very well.” 

She watched as Micah unwound the bandages from their torso, rolling them into neat cylinders. Dressing themselves slowly in a sweatshirt that zipped on the front, still baggy, no bra. The opposite of the casual model they’d morphed into since getting their suitcase back. Shapeless, undefined, Micah left in an outfit more akin to a giant sack than clothing. 

Felix heard the door open, and he stiffened at the table as those steps, heavy with recognizable weight, grew louder and louder. 

And then they were there. Just as they always were. Taking up the hallway, blocking what little light was left. 

“Hey,” Micah greeted him. Eyes bright enough for him to see, like the bulbs on Sam’s string lights. 

“Hey,” he nodded back, sitting in the dark. 

Micah motioned to turn on the lights, and ADA brought them up to a dim glow. Micah noticed him relax as soon as the shadows retreated. Then they saw he was sitting by a small spread on a large plate. 

“What’s that?” 

“Dinner,” Felix said shyly, “I made it for everybody. I figured you’d wake up and want something.” 

“I did! I do!” they smiled. Micah got a drink out of the fridge, just a bottle of water. They crossed to the table, and sat at the head. Felix was sitting to their left, and he silently pushed the plate of frittata toward Micah as they motioned for it. 

“What did you put in it?” They asked, lifting the plate up and rotating it in front of their eyes. 

“Bacon, cheese, spinach, mushrooms, and tomatoes,” he said. Micah hummed in approval. 

“Sounds delicious,” they continued to smile at him, “nobody’s cooked for me in ages.”

Micah took their fork, grabbing a large bite of the eggs, creme fraise, scallions, and chilli oil. It was exactly the toppings they’d told him they liked, they almost blushed when they realized. Micah brought the fork up to their mouth, aware of Felix’s unbroken stare, but they hesitated at the edge of their lips. They could still taste the boxed brownie mix on their tongue from the dream. Did they really want to banish it so quickly?

They bit down on the fork, pulling it from between their teeth with an audible _shink!_ Felix could see the dent in the handle, miniscule, but present, from that big diamond. 

“Oh,” Micah whispered, before scooping up another bite of the same size and toppings. They ate three more before setting their fork down for a second to take a drink. 

“Is… is it good?” 

“I wouldn’t be eating it if it weren’t,” Micah said, rushed, as they dove back into their meal. It was smaller than they would’ve liked. They found themselves wishing for an extra slice, or four, when they scraped the last of the hot sauce and creme mixture off the plate with their finger. 

“That was good! You did a good job!” They grinned at him. They immediately rose to their feet, going to the kitchen and placing the plate and fork in the sink. They didn’t return, though. They were rummaging through the vegetable bin again. 

“I need a snack! Would you like one?” Micah asked, turning back to show Felix two corn cobs, skewered at the bottom. 

“Raw corn?” He asked, and Micah snorted. 

“No! Elote!” They said, “it’s good! I promise. I’ll make you one, and if you hate it, I’ll eat yours. Deal?” 

“Deal,” he agreed. “What is it?” 

“A snack. I could eat a dozen of them. You roast corn and cover it with mayo, cheese, chili. The works!” They laughed, and Felix watched as they set the oven to broil. They hummed softly while they crumbled a handful of cheese onto a cutting board, followed by a quick dice through a small bundle of cilantro. 

He wondered what they did back on Earth again. They were an entertainer? On _TV?_ Working in restaurants? With knife skills like that he almost wondered…

“Hey, Boss. Were you some hot shot Chef?” He asked. Micah stopped humming, slowing to a halt. 

“Huh?” 

“On Earth. You know, like one of those ones that cooks on the Aetherwaves?” 

“No. I’m a home cook,” they said, “but I got to travel a lot growing up! I learned about food everywhere I went. You saw that vid.”  
“No? Just a no? You worked in that restaurant?” He prodded. Micah sighed. 

“I promise I only did that out of my own interest,” they said, “plus, could you imagine anybody wanting to learn to cook from someone with a face like mine?” 

“I do.” 

“Well, I’ll teach you what I can,” they shrugged, “why all the speculation anyway?” 

“Cause you’ve never said,” he felt like he was pointing out the obvious. 

“Only because none of you would actually understand it,” they said, “there’s no frame of reference for any of you. Even if I explained myself dry.” 

“Try me,” Felix said. 

“No.” 

Micah rarely shut him down so abruptly, but he had been pushing his luck. Their humming resumed, the tension fizzling out with no bang. They roasted the corn, slathered it in mayo and cheese, then sprinkled them both with chili powder and cilantro. There wasn't any lime, to Micah’s dismay. Lime trees weren’t stable yet. 

“Okay,” they warned, bringing over the two cobs. Felix took it by the stick, and Micah opened their mouth wide. The dull light flashed off their teeth as they bit into the elote. They didn’t even notice him staring. 

He took a bite. 

It was fresh, sweet, spicy. Cool and hot. Rich and savory. The kernels popped in his mouth, and he watched Micah devour theirs in moments. He ate slower. 

“Boss, are you feeling okay? You’ve got an appetite.”

“When don’t I?” Micah smiled, “besides the obvious, I feel okay. I’m just really fucking hungry.” 

Well, he couldn’t really blame them. He knew they always made their own portion size larger than the rest. It wasn’t like they were shorting them purpose, they just ate more than everybody else. The meal he’d made had been divided more evenly, they could probably eat half a wooly cow by now. 

And Micah proved him right, getting up and taking a cursory look over the fridge and produce. They had plenty, but Micah didn’t know exactly what they wanted to eat. They didn’t want to use all the corn. It was in limited supply, and Micah almost flinched recalling Nikey’s remark in their dream. 

No limes, no beef, no corn. What the fuck were they supposed to do about that! 

“Hey, you’d tell me if the meals I’m serving didn’t fill you up, right?” 

“Uh… sure?” Felix gave them a raised eyebrow and crossed arms. 

“Like, I remember us-you, Parvati, and me-talking about it right at the start. You said after lunch that you were still hungry, and then I offered to start cooking lunches too.” Micah explained, finally settling on tobaccorn chips. At least they were reminiscent of corn flavor. 

Right as they went to sit down, ADA interrupted them. 

“Captain, it seems Doctor Phineas Welles is attempting to reach you. Will you receive the transmission?” 

“Be right back,” they promised Felix, leaving the chips on the table. They had a few clutched in the open palm of their left hand, crunching on them as they walked to the Bridge. They took their seat, popping a chip into their mouth. They wiped their hand on their chest, punching a couple buttons on the keyboard. Phineas popped up on the little screen. 

“Ah! Hello, hello!” He said, raising his hand. They waved back, swallowing the chip they were still chewing. 

“Hey, Doc! You needed me?” 

“Just wanted to let you know I’ve gotten my hands through the last of your things. It’ll take some time to make sure it’s all safe and stable, but I’ve cleared your, uh… very large mattress, was it?” He rambled, “quite easy, actually. You packed it marvelously! All rolled and squashed like that, pressed into a box, hm? Reminds me of how I found you!” 

Phineas chuckled a little, and Micah nodded, chomping down on another chip. 

“We’re headed nearby, I can swing through in a couple days. I can have ADA signal you when we leave.” They said.

“Perfect! That’s marvelous. Truly, you have some shit, Micah.” 

Micah laughed at that, two quick bursts, and then they flinched. 

“I got in a pretty bad scuffle on Scylla, my own fault, but I need to rest up a few days before we stop by. See you then?”

“Oh, no. Micah, do you need me to look over you? Any broken bones, nerve damage? Can’t have my shooting star go falling, now can I?” He became instantly concerned, eye getting huge as he peered closer to his screen, and camera. He could vaguely make out the discoloration on their body in the red light. 

“I’ll be okay. You know me.” 

“For both our sakes, no I don’t,” he cautioned, “you have to be careful.”

“For who? You or me?” They accused, “and don’t call me shooting star, please.” 

“For you, Micah. And all of Halcyon. But most of all for you. You said yourself, you wanted to try again, right?” Phineas said it gently, but Micah knew he was right. What was the point of killing themselves over something stupid like a Primal fight? 

But to them it wasn’t stupid, and the injuries they sustained were a fair trade for the damage they’d caused. They’d done their best to keep the population of Primals sustainable, and they’d made a miscalculation. They’d still come out alive. 

“See if you can’t find my bedframe,” they told him, “I’ll need it.” 

“I’ll certainly try. I guess I’ll be seeing you soon? Ah, would it be too much to ask you to bring me another one of those, um, pie-things?” He asked, “if you can’t, I completely understand.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, dude. It’s super easy,” Micah said. “Anyway, it’s late…”

“I’ll let you go. Contact me soon! Stay safe, Micah!” He waved again, and Micah cut the transmission. They sighed, and ADA frowned. 

“Captain, you seem exhausted. Perhaps you and Felix should go to-”

“I’m okay,” Micah said. They got up, finishing their last chips, and headed back upstairs to the waiting bag, and waiting man. 

“What did the old man want?” Felix asked, less startled by Micah coming into view again. 

“My bed is here,” they said, taking their seat. They rested their chin on the heel of their palm, and continued to eat from the bag of chips that Felix had clearly also been picking at. The two shared the snack, and Micah told him the plan to go once they were done on The Groundbreaker. 

“Thank you for making dinner, and keeping some for me,” they said, voice hushed, “you didn’t have to do that. Or stay up to make sure I got it.” 

“I wanted to,” he shook his head, “I already told Max this, but we don’t just stop being a crew because you’re asleep.” 

“I appreciate it,” Micah smiled a little, pinching a chip between the sides of their fingers. They pointed at him just a little with it, then ate it. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said, “to tell you the truth, I was afraid everybody was going to keel over.” 

“You followed my recipe, I wouldn’t poison any of you.” Micah scoffed. 

“That’s… true. But still, I don’t know how you deal with the pressure. Waiting for everybody to take a bite took ten years off my life!” 

“I like it,” they said, “pressure gives me something to push back against. I’m not just running headlong over the edge, but forcing myself against something. Waiting to see if you like the new foods is also a critique for myself. I want to learn what you enjoy, what you prefer.” 

“You care a lot about us, Boss, but you… you said yourself you don’t really have a plan, right? When all this is over, don’t you think we’ll all move on?” He asked, and he instantly knew it was a mistake. He’s never seen Micah look so sad. He thought earlier that they looked a bit puffy, but he chalked it up to the bruising. Their eyes shimmered a little, but they blinked away the tears there. They sniffed once, and cleared their throat. 

“You are my family. All of you. And sometimes family grows apart, or they leave, or they don’t want to be around you anymore, and that’s okay,” Micah said, “but while I have you, all of you, I want to treat you right. An extension of myself, and my own heart, yes? Who knows… who knows when you’ll go to sleep, and wake up without somebody you love. You can never fill that unique space they occupied. Maybe some sad day in the future, if you ever leave me, I’ll appear in your dreams. And I’ll say, Hi. How are you? I missed you. Let’s have a soft time together, just for a bit. And when you wake up…” 

They didn’t finish their thought. Felix saw a single shiny tear slide down their face, and they looked down at the table. They wiped their eyes quickly, just the side of their hand swiping their cheekbones, and took a deep breath. 

“Boss,” he whispered.

“No, no, I’m fine,” they tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t work. 

“Well. I can tell you if that day ever comes, I know I won’t have to look far to find you,” Felix promised, “I think I’d be mighty pissed if we ever fell apart.” 

“Good. Glad we agree,” Micah said. “Now… I’m tired, I think I’m going to go to bed, okay?” 

“Sure, Boss. It was good to see you. I’m… The fact you’re okay means a lot.” He nodded, and Micah covered the back of his hand with theirs. They pat it, getting up and leaving him at the table. Their footsteps retreated, the door closed, ADA turned the lights off on him. He had no choice but to go to bed himself.

The next afternoon Felix offered Ellie a cigarette, and she accepted. The two didn’t get along swimmingly, but they didn’t mind chatting. Ellie was just not interested in anything Felix had to offer, or say. Not on a personal level. But he was nice enough, and he always had a spare smoke for her when she cracked open an afternoon cider. 

“Hey, I need a favor,” he said, quite boldly. But, then again, everything he said came out with a confidence Ellie wouldn’t wish on her worst enemies. 

“Yeah? How much are you gonna pay me?” Ellie asked, pulling a king sized drag off the cig. 

“No, no, I just uh. I want to get Boss a present, you know? Like a jacket or something. I was hoping you could slip me their measurements so I know what size to buy,” he explained. Ellie stared at him, processing what he’d said. 

“You want to buy… _Micah_ a present? Why?” She asked, and he shrugged. He didn’t want to tell Ellie it was for their birthday, because she already knew it was almost that time. Or maybe she didn’t. 

“They gave me a Tossball from an important Earth game. I just want to return the favor. I need to refill my shots, might as well go look around while they’re stuck on the ship,” he said. Ellie leaned back, exhaling a stream of smoke through her nose. As funny as it would be to prank him with a wrong set of numbers, Ellie knew this was a genuine request. 

“Okay, Felix.” She said, “I’ll write them down for you, get you a copy before we hit The Groundbreaker tomorrow.” 

“Really? Thanks a ton, Ellie!” He beamed at her with that ditzy, million bits smile he had, and Ellie mentally cursed herself for succumbing to his dim witted persuasion. He bounced off up the stairs before Ellie could even finish her cigarette, and she sighed, rubbing the back of her hand on her forehead. 

He couldn’t have known about Micah’s birthday, right? Micah had only told Ellie after _many_ attempts and threats. But, she had seen that bloody Tossball on his table, so she knew that much was true. The two had birthdays _very_ close to each other. A matter of 20 days, exactly. 

Ellie wondered if Micah knew Felix’s birthday, and then pushed that thought out of her mind. She didn’t care one way or another, really. Felix hadn’t kept her up late the past few weeks, she could do him a good turn for a change. 

Micah breezed past her like an apparition, she barely had time to turn her head before the captain had vanished down the stairs to the Bridge. Had they been listening? No… where had they even come from? 

Micah was damp from their shower, towel wrapped around their neck to catch the drips from their hair. ADA commented on their shiny skin, and Micah laughed it off. 

“How far are we to Groundbreaker?” 

“We should arrive in 24 hours,” ADA informed. 

“Cool, thanks, ADA,” they said before striding back out. They wanted to get there quick, Gladys had a big delivery for them, even if they weren’t supposed to leave the ship.

Micah bumped chest first into Felix, who was making his way to the lockers where he liked to take breaks. 

“Whoa, shit. Sorry dude,” they said, steadying him with two hands on his shoulders. 

“No problem,” he said, and he noticed Micah’s hands lingering on his arms for a moment longer than he’d expected. They were scraped and scabbed, nailpolish chipped, missing their pinkie nail. They were still covered in bruises, a tremble went through their shoulders, but they didn’t wince, or flinch, or show any outward pain. 

“You excited for this? We should go clubbing.” They suggested, drawing his attention back up. 

“I don’t think there’s any clubs we can join,” he said sadly, and Micah frowned. He didn't want them pushing themselves during this break, anyway.

“No clubs on The Groundbreaker?” 

“Not unless you count Gladys’ knitting, reading, and quilting clubs. Or the official Felix Millstone And Company Club.” 

“Whoa, whoa, what’s your club?” 

“It never took off but I used to go light stuff on fire in the back bays, get the guards called, and dip before they could find me.” 

“Yo, can I join?” Micah laughed, leaning up next to him on the shelves. 

“You wanna do arson?” 

“Oh _fuck_ yes, I wanna do arson!” Micah was overjoyed at the invitation. It had been 70 years since they last got to light some shit on fire on _purpose!_ That wasn’t related to fighting that is. 

“Okay, this is so sweet,” Felix cheered to himself. “Welcome to the Felix Millstone and Company Club!” 

Felix stuck his hand out, and Micah grabbed it. They shook hands, gigging under their breaths at the private agreement they’d just made. 

“Okay, so we absolutely need a secret handshake,” Micah whispered, and Felix’s eyes lit up. 

“I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear someone say those words to me,” he gushed. 

“Let’s make a secret handshake,” Micah said in a low, husky voice, causing both of them to dissolve into snorting laughter. They doubled over, Micah’s hand on Felix’s back, patting as they laughed themselves breathless. Their hand stilled on his shoulder once more, a heavy weight that wouldn’t go unnoticed by anyone. 

“Hey,” Micah cut though the shortness of breath, and Felix held his breath.

“Thanks, Felix,” they nodded. 

“What for?” 

“Just… ya know,” they puffed out their chest as they rolled upwards, arching their back and putting their hands on their hips. They were wearing an orange hoodie again, it wasn’t the same as the other, this one was missing the sleeves. Felix got to read the logo for Rizzo’s Orange Smush. 

“Sure, Boss,” he said. He did know; something about the little in betweens they shared. Felix had a little catalogue of memories he’d stored away for later. A lot of them, now, were comprised of these types of moments. 

“I’ll start working on that handshake,” Micah said, “you give it some thought too, okay?” 

“Okay!” He smiled, and Micah pushed off from the wall. 

“Oh yeah, one more thing? When I find a real club I’ll take you, it’s like a fancy bar where they play loud music and you can dance.” 

“Well, I mean, music here is really just jingles. I don’t know how you dance to that,” he said, and Micah hummed, rubbing their chin. 

“I’ll figure something out,” they promised. “We can wear mesh shirts.” 

“Mesh? Why?” Felix wasn’t sure Micah was being serious. Micah always wore full coverage clothes. Even now, their hoodie was underlaid with a navy blue long sleeve that was rolled up to the elbows. A mesh shirt on Micah seemed like it would be a fishing net cast on the great White Saltuna. Whoever was unfortunate enough to be Ahab in this situation would probably suffer the same legless fate. 

“It’s hot,” Micah shrugged, bringing him back to the conversation, “showing some skin? Getting really drunk? It’s sexy, I guess.” 

“Oh, I see. We both wear like seventeen billion layers every day so it’s like when Earth babes in the old times were caught showing some ankle.” He said. This caused Micah to laugh so loud and hard, so suddenly, that they almost dry heaved. 

“Exa-exactly!” They gasped, hand half covering their face as they coughed at the end. Their eyes were shiny from the gag, and they sniffed and sighed, collecting themselves. Felix felt himself swelling with pride over the reaction, and he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Captain,” ADA’s voice chimed, but she didn’t seem amused, “remember what crewmate Ellie advised for your health? I think it would be best if you returned to your room and stopped such vigorous movements.”

“Are you working out down there?” Ellie shouted from the stairs. 

“No!” Micah and Felix yelled in unison. Micah’s face went soft with a second of sadness. They shot him an apologetic look, and shrugged their shoulders. 

“What can we do?” They sighed, “I should listen to them.” 

“Go ahead, Boss. I don’t want you aching over me,” he encouraged them to go, and they nodded one more time before they left. They took the stairs slower than usual. Certainly not the scrabbling wall climb they’d done more than once. 

“Felix, I’d ask you to continue to keep the Captain’s health in mind.” ADA said, almost scolding. “Despite your feelings, they are still only human. I’ve done enough scans to know.” 

“Sorry,” he peeped, “I didn’t think they’d laugh so hard at that.” 

“Neither did I.” 

“Thanks,” he snorted, “anyway, if I’m done being chastised?”

“You’re free to leave whenever you want.” ADA said, and then she stopped talking to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double posting chapters bc its my roommate's birthday >:^) enjoyy <3


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